You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, „Who is that man?“
You try so hard
But you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
You raise up your head
And you ask, „Is this where it is?“
And somebody points to you and says
„It’s his“
And you say, „What’s mine?“
And somebody else says, „Where what is?“
And you say, „Oh my God
Am I here all alone?“
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, „How does it feel
To be such a freak?“
And you say, „Impossible“
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When somebody attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You’ve been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read
It’s well known
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, „Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan“
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word „NOW“
And you say, „For what reason?“
And he says, „How?“
And you say, „What does this mean?“
And he screams back, „You’re a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home“
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose to the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin’ around
You should be made
To wear earphones
Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones
Prevod pesme
Balada o jednom mršavku
Ti ušetaš u sobu
Sa olovkom u ruci
Vidiš nekog golog
I kažeš, „Ko je taj čovek?“
Jako se trudiš
Ali ne razumeš
Šta reći ćeš
Kada kući stigneš
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
Podigneš glavu
I kažeš, „Jel to ovde?“
A neko pokaže na tebe i kaže
„To je njegovo“
A ti kažeš, „Šta je moje?“
I neko drugi kaže, „Gde šta je?“
A ti kažeš, „Oh moj Bože
Jesam li ja to ovde sasvim sam?“
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
Predaš svoju kartu
I posmatraš tog čudaka
Koji ti odmah prilazi
Kada čuje tvoj glas
I kaže, „Kakav je osećaj
Biti takav izrod?“
A ti kažeš, „Nemoguće“
Dok ti pruža mali prst
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
Ti si na vezi sa mnogim
Drvosečama
Pa imaš pristup činjenicama
Kada neko tvoju maštu napadne
Ali niko nema poštovanja
U svakom slučaju, oni već od tebe očekuju
Samo da daš ček dobrotvornim organizacijama,
kroz tu donaciju ostvariš poresku olakšicu
Bio si sa profesorima
i svima se dopadalo kako izgledaš
Sa tim tvojim odličnim advokatima
Raspravljali ste o gubavcima i varalicama
Prešao si sve
F. Skot Ficdžeraldove knjige
Veoma si načitan
To je dobro poznato
cott Fitzgerald’s books
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
E pa, taj gutač mačeva, on ti priđe
I onda padne na kolena
Prekrsti se
Pa lupi štiklama
I bez odlaganja
Pita te kakv je osećaj
I on kaže, „Evo vraćam ti tvoju gušu
Hvala na pozajmici“
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
Sada vidiš ovog jednookog kepeca
Što uzvikuje reč „SAD“
A ti kažeš, „Zbog čega?“
A on kaže, „Kako?“
A ti kažeš, „Šta ovo znači?“
A on zaurla na tebe, „Ti si krava
Daj mi malo mleka
Ili idi kući“
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons
E pa, ti ušetaš u sobu
Kao neka kamila a onda se namrštiš
Zažmuriš
Uši naćuliš
Tvoje svraćanje
Trebalo bi biti zakonom zabranjeno
Trebali bi te naterati
Da nosiš slušalice
Jer ovde se nešto dešava
Ali ti ne znaš šta
Jel da, g-dine Džons