51% Dead

Could you cook my pride?
 Please season it with rage
 Then let me feed off it
 I will become your slave
 An ancient formula used
 To dominate nihilist dogs
 To break their strongest fangs
 And then leave them dying
 Power of defeat
 Makes you wake up
 But only like a half
 51% dead
 Half zombie, half man
 Stench begins to grow
 As the deepest feelings
 Turn to the coldest lust
 Parents love their sons
 The father brings food for all
 Sick creatures, parasites and the great whore
 Happy life goes on
 Far away we waste our feelings
 Blind for a lifetime
 To kill us, far away from the light, my partners
 Almost Dead my friends
 Through torture could we find our freedom?
 Tenderness / Defecation
 Sweetness / Masturbation