impatient the masochist's blood runs in my veins I wait for you, the sadist
if I can do it with a poisonous kiss

because of sorrow I cannot see virtue you are the last mother
the memory buried so that you won't realise the first mother
even though the clock turns backwards the sin I've committed can't be changed
the first and last person who understood me is burned into my memory

see me resisting strongly and then kindly forcing a decision
I can never tell you
the creaking sound of leather hurts me let's make the wound even deeper
you, deeply jealous are you always so cold-hearted?
even now I don't want to forget the abuse of my childhood
why don't I have a mother? tell me...

someday I'll realise kindness inside the mother-like "cradle"...

because of anguish I cannot see before me my last mother
at least, so that you won't realise the first mother
even though the clock turns backwards the sin I've committed can't be changed
the first and last person who understood me is destroyed

were you too kind to me? the reflection of a trauma from long ago
I destroyed you, the last one am I a sadist?