Letras
Down the rabbit hole
We go
As the flames grow higher
For the unbelievers
Making mushrooms out of men
'Til she turns them back again
To a face of solid gold
Of solid gold
And the sycophantic fawners
Sick of a quick time
And the beginning's at the end
'Til we turn them 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
It's hanging on a cloth edge
By its fingers
The beginning at the end
That's okay, I guess
If you like this kinda, kinda thing
This kinda thin, thin, thin, thin thing
These kinda mushrooms
These kinda ripples
These kinda ripples
This kinda thin thing, thin thing, thin thing
Like this kinda thin, thin thing, yeah
Like this kinda thin, thin thing
Like this kinda thin, thin thing
Like this kinda thin, thin thing
Like this kinda thin, thin thing