A third less filling than Craig's regular poetry

There once was a tyrannosaurus,
who lived a long time before us,
his last name was Rex,
his hobby was sex,
and he lived when the earth was porous.

When sex didn't quite suit his mood,
he would go out hunting for food,
lizard's he'd murder,
make bronto-burgers,
and drink coffee, always fresh brewed.

Then over Rex, across the sky,
a humongous comet did fly,
it hit Australia*,
and boy, I'll tell ya,
that would soon bring a tear to his eye.

The changes now begun weren't good,
it would change everything, it would,
down with the tyrannos,
up with the mammals,
well, there goes the old neighborhood.

So little light, and acid rain,
it was too much, for his walnut brain**,
he couldn't quite grasp,
the next breath, his last,
that nothing would ever be the same.

Never to see his grand kids, the birds***,
never to achieve spoken words,
it's quite a raw deal,
after your last meal,
to guess your kind evolve to nerds...

As black smoke choked all the big guys,
if Rex new of history's surprise,
he'd say, "It's quite rude,
to wind up as crude,
millennia after one dies."

So one might conclude, if docile,
you may just out-last those who're vile,
there're bigger targets,
they deserve what they gets,
and all that is left is a fossil.