Dissertation on the ethics of self-driving time machines


Could a deer ever gad
Through our teeth-eater-tale?
Well I doubt we should know
As our souls aren′t for sale
She′ll be torn from the ground
I′ll be cast out to sea
And we′ll burn with the world
So we can′t ever grieve
Not a word shall ring true
But the pages still bleed
And some ash might be spared
As the clockwork repeats
Distant tunes of a past 
Unattuned to our deeds
But I′m sure we′d be glad 
While the flame doesn′t care
Knowing this too shall pass
And the fire was shared