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