Time to trade in
Old Father Tyme
For a concept
Of consistence

Ultimate resolutions begin
In desolate institutions
They rest in their pods
Comfortably numb
With contentment
For their mission
Is now accomplished
Voluntarily, they line up
Into echelons of space
Giving themselves back
To an entrance
That coughed them out

The curtain has closed
And a chapter has ended
Yet their presence
Still echoes on