You gonna look fine 

Be primed for dancing 

You're gonna trip and glide 

All on the trembling plane 

Your diamond hands 

Will be stacked with roses 

And wind and cars 

And people of the past 



I'll call you thing 

Just when the moon sings 

And place your face in stone 

Upon the hill of stars 

And gripped in the arms 

Of the changeless madman 

We'll dance our lives away 

In the Ballrooms of Mars 



You talk about day 

I'm talking 'bout night time 

When the monsters call out 

The names of men 

Bob Dylan knows 

And I bet Alan Freed did 

There are things in night 

That are better not to behold 



You dance 

With your lizard leather boots on 

And pull the strings 

That change the faces of men 

You diamond browed hag 

You're a gutter-gaunt gangster 

John Lennon knows your name 

And I've seen his