Fixer-Upper

If everything works out, the world will carry on. Without us humans in its way, Earth will be singin' a song.
A joyous one at that, probably at the top of its lungs. Its blackened lungs, blacker than Cheech and Chongs'.
After all of the pollution building up over the years, now the earth and moon are kickin' back sippin' galactic beers.
It's amazing, the amount of shit, we put together, burned and split.
We sat and watched, as it went by, we turned our heads and closed our eyes.
We tried to take action, right there in the end, but it was way too late, it was more like pretend.
In hindsight it seems silly to care about such crap, couldn't we just travel back and set a rich white boy trap?