You now live in my child's mind
Of soap bubble worlds that go pop
Or perhaps sit on my wand for a time
So I can watch the colors that you drop

And if I flick my wrist
It's because you've become to big of a drip
No inflation there to find
Just depression of the mind

And children don't get depressed
But rather spoiled by rich parent time
Leaving their little minds repressed
I'd rather be poor and make better use of my time

You see I clean my own house
I have no need for a maid of the mind
So wipe your damned feet
Before you enter this door of mind

Lest I spray you with lie-Saul
And you smell most natural of pine
From the box in which they take you away
From the dead thought you are in my mind

Because a child's world can take you anywhere
And create great monsters in it's mind
All colored in the grandest of flair
With the thoughts there they can find