In the museum a brotosaurus standing to be seen
A model, not real, something out of a dream
Life goes on, they belong to the past
Humans disappeared and that was a blast
Future generations would see how we were
Coronus with legs and feet began to occur
It was their aim to take over the world
Changing their shapes, their appearance unfurled
Their sticky hands clinging on to each other
They would laugh at the humans, which they learned how to smother
Brontosauraus died out, we do not know why
Humans we conquered by a very small fry.