Four years had the Tenth been with us,
Four years with us he traveled,
Fought madmen, Masters, Angels that wept,
And this is how he's repayed?
For the dawn of another Doctor,
For changing his appearance and ways
When he hasn't changed so much at all,
When he's the same man we've known for decades?
I don't recall all eleven of his lives,
And I still don't know some lives at all,
But I remember the words the Tenth spoke:
"I don't want to go," indeed.
But we're not static – a choice is given.
So forget Amy's, this one is ours.
Do we abandon the runner from Gallefrey
In favor of one life alone?
Or do we choose to face the reality
That he'll change still time and again
And he's not all that different inside somehow?
That decision is ours alone.