sure it's funny .... but is it big and clever (landmowers, a poem of such)

as i lay beneath the ground im thankful to taste charaltan lies of understanding what they have yet to learn that twist and burn only to be advaned by the cheap mdf coffin lid that shield their grappled faces from my raisen like eyes, and even as the day is torn from the sky like runt child from brest to lay alone in darkness i remember as the days advance through future the sheep shall grow tied and regrete routine only to die and join me to hate the physical landmowers with their pink skin and love and become next step up to rejoice in the reality of become a stage in the soil cycle, only to be sold in bag to give nutrients to pretty flowers, Landmowers contridict remorse and morning

God hates you but, satan will pretend to laugh.