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 glitter-gaunt gangster
   John Lennon knows your name
   And I've seen his