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Á¦¸ñ: Mr. Jones
°¡¼ö: Grass Roots

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?"
Somebody else says "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"

And you know something's happening,
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
Then you go watch the keep
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
You say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

And you know something's happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Are you have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
Do you get fax
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway, they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations, oh yeah

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones

And you know something's happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones? x2

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Mr. Jones
Grass Roots

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