The world is to heavy, too big for my shoulders, come take the weight off me now.
The Doctor knew a lot of things. He knew the outcomes of wars that hadn't even happened yet, he knew the fates of people who hadn't even been born yet. He knew so many languages he'd lost count, in fact sometimes he'd gotten them confused and spoke seven different ones in one sentence. He knew so many little tidbits of information that no one would could possibly ask about it all, and he'd babble but bits and pieces here and there sometimes.
Thousands of answers to one simple question, come take the weight off me now.
The only thing the Doctor never seemed to be able to figure out was humans. Humans constantly and utterly terrified and amazed him. All at once they were the greatest and worst beings he'd yet to meet. They made him laugh, they made him hurt, they made him cry. They were his greatest adventure.
I'm like a kid who just won't let it go, twisting and turning the colors in rows. I'm so intent to find out what it is, this is my Rubik cube and I know I can figure it out.
That's why he kept them along, you see. Each one was like a Rubik's cube, entirely different from the last yet still somehow the same material, but he never quite got to finish any of them. And the once you've changed them, started them, you can never bring them back to the way they used to be.
He was like a child. He needed his little Rubik cubes. Funny how they were invented by humans too. But still he'd always found a new one, he'd try to figure it out and meanwhile they were so willing, the humans always so willing. To just run with him, and go on their little adventures.
We're lost in the playground, Late night nostalgia, open the sky for me, now. Friends round the fire, outside in December. Open the sky for me now.
They never realized that he'd destroy them. That one day he wouldn't be able to save them, and he'd be right back where he'd started. With a new Rubik cube, at least until he would lose that one. But not now. He couldn't now, he'd lost every mystery he'd ever experienced. He didn't want to find another Rubik cube.
He'd lost Rose, Mickey, Martha, Donna, Amy, Rory, Clara, and River. They were all gone now. Even Jack. He didn't want another Rubik cube, he wanted his old one, he wanted all his old ones. He didn't have to figure them out, he just wanted to hold them for a little while longer.
Credits roll over, the edge of the horizons, but I haven't discovered yet
He felt so empty now. He knew it wouldn't last, some pretty face would come along and catch his eye. He'd immediately become obsessed with his new Rubik cube, tossing and turning the colors until they all fit into a neat little row. And then he'd lose that one. And he'd do it again, and again.
He loved Rubik cubes. He just wished they didn't make him so sad.