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