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?