There weren't nothin' growin' on his farm,
But that changed when, from space, came great harm.
At first it was a god send, something truly great,
But by the time he found out the truth, it was too late.
The meteorite crashed and infected all the land,
It even infected the farmer, beginning with his hand.
For the land it was a miracle, like none had ever seen.
Plants just grew everywhere, all one could see was green.
For the farmer it was a death sentence, gruesome and slow,
Nobody could help him, there was nowhere to go.
The plants were growing on him, making him hotter,
So he gave into them and fed them water.
Now he's gone, a bullet through the head,
And no single person cares that he is now dead.
No one to comfort him before his final breath:
Who is this farmer that died a lonesome death?