Spread that shit around,
Spread it so thin you can't see it,
Spread it through aerosols and tell them you're the cleaning lady,
(comment on how fresh it smells)
If they won't sit down and rub the armchair,
If they won't roll on the floor in front of the fire,
There is nothing you can do,
Except shut the door and bolt it and pass notes underneath explaining the process by which they can never return to your halogen heaven.
Take out the bulbs and stomp them,
(you don't need eyes)
Pass the shards under the door one by one,
They now have the tools to make their own.