Thin Thing - Live at Montreux Jazz Festival

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