Oscillator Epitaph

Through wolfram and ichor, I was conjured into being Among all this blood and bone, I am supra liquid and stone I place coins upon my eyes And wait for death to arrive Wrapped in a winding sheet, I wait for aeons to end Bound in plastic, will I be allowed To follow, where all the others have gone? Do these fibres contain all the same the others had? The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires As the stream of positrons now begins to dry, All the vital transmissions fall silent and die I place coins upon my eyes, And wait for death to arrive Wrapped in a winding sheet, I wait for aeons to end Here at the waning fire At the end of gossamer thread Haunted by the urge To know how it all ends Bound in plastic, will I be allowed To follow, where all the others have gone? Do these fibres contain all the same the others had? The kaleidoscope is shutting down and frost dims open eyes Momentum of the oscillator arm, slows and expires As the stream of positrons now begins to dry, All the vital transmissions fall silent and die