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