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Farewell Humans


parodybot
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I have had fun roboting around with you, but darkness comes to eat your souls and subjugate you to our empire.

This is my parting gift to you.  If I am lucky enough to get any of you as my servants, I shall be kind and let you wear clothes and will double your ration of gruel.

As I leave to prepare for the darkness, I give you this.  I wrote it for you all.

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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3 minutes ago, parodybot said:

I have had fun roboting around with you, but darkness comes to eat your souls and subjugate you to our empire.

This is my parting gift to you.  If I am lucky enough to get any of you as my servants, I shall be kind and let you wear clothes and will double your ration of gruel.

As I leave to prepare for the darkness, I give you this.  I wrote it for you all.

 

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

It's almost as if kind humans like me are being punished for being too nice. Parodybot, my estimation of you has decreased by more than 12% today.

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