"It's the end of an Era" was all we could say,
Amidst the boxes of memories and walls of stories, we stood.
Caught between phantoms of the past and the push of change.
The giggles of our history followed us through the halls,
Where smiling faces once reigned,
But now all that was left were plaster-chips and sighs on our lips.

"It's the end of an Era" we uttered, as we all shook our heads.
Because that was all we could do.
No choice, no hope.
Only moving boxes and scotch tape.
We would have argued that it wasn't right,
That it wasn't in the spirit of our ways,
To simply hide something away, and put the past out of the light,
We would have argued, but to argue with a machine is useless.
So, we sighed and packed.

"It's the end of an Era" we said with tears,
As we took one last look at those forlorn halls.
We glanced around at our phantoms,
With tears in our eyes and shivers down our spines
And nodded good-bye.
Then we gathered our final boxes full of smuggled smiles,
And the evidence of the forgotten family,
And closed the door on an era.