'the time has come', he said With talk of cabbages and kings He died in bed And though he seemed unsure The walrus in him knew the place And asked no more Tall sister shakes her head No need to hear the voice In tones of measured lead And waiting by the door The next in line will close his eyes He won't wait As the reel of age unwinds Upon the floor the perfect frames Are hard to find Editing the sense from senseless All forces too intense Are fossilized in white Seen through a looking-gla** Some madmen know the truth While fools won't dare to ask 'the time has come', he said With talk of cabbages and kings He died in bed and asked no more While sunk in memories He kept no promises to mend his broken ways No last ditch piety To send him honestly into some empty space My hand against the sky With fingers spread, another tree Though half as wise Seen through a looking-gla** Some madmen know the truth While fools won't dare to ask what times will come