Thin Thing

Down a rabbit hole We go As the flames grow higher For unbelievers Making mushrooms out of men 'Til she turns us back again To a face of solid gold Solid gold Sycophantic fawners In double quick time The beginning at the end 'Til she turns us back again First she'll pull your fingers off And then she'll pull your toes And then she'll steal the photos from your phone But you won't notice Our echo doesn't hear us Anymore Hanging on a cloth edge By its fingers Making mushrooms out of men That's okay I guess If you like this kind of, kind of thing This kind of thin, thin, thin, thin thing These kind of mushrooms These kind of ripples These kind of ripples This kind of thin, thin, thin, thin, thin thing Like this kind of thing Like this kind of thin, thin thing Like this kind of thing Like this kind of thing Like these kind of ripples Like this kind of thing Like this kind of thing