Let me put you in this bubble 

Let me paint this picture of you

Wear it like a dreath shroud

Let my compliment be insult smothered in smoke clouds

Ignore every sound except the sound of my voice

O you poor dear you simply haven't got a choice

You simply haven't got a prayer

You simply haven't got a dime

The only thing you seem to own is the instability of your mind

O you poor, poor child of mine