Down a rabbit hole
We go
As the flames grow higher
For unbelievers

Making mushrooms out of men
‘Till she turns us back again

To a face of solid gold
Solid gold
Sycophantic fawners
In double quick-time

The beginning at the end
‘Till 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 kinda thin, thin, thin, thin thing
These kinda mushrooms
Thеse kinda ripples
Thesе kinda ripples
These kinda 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