Losing numbness, I draw the blood of masochism
as I wait for you, the sadist
If I can do it, it will be with a kiss of poison
It is sorrowful, consequently, it is an unseen virtue
You are the last MOTHER
Inlay your memory as if noticing the first MOTHER
Even if the clock is turned back,
the sins I have committed cannot be rectified
In the beginning,
the last prophet was stained

Look at me, who is unwilling to act
First strongly, then gently, against your will
I would never tell you
The creaking sound of leather against skin is painful
Let us intensify the wounds
Were you, who I envy so deeply, always so cold-blooded?
I was mistreated in my youth
Even now, it is painful to remember it
Why is my mother non-existent? / Tell me!

Sometime, when I can perceive gentility,
I will become the Virgin Mary in a cradle
It is pathos, therefore I cannot see in front of me
with my last MOTHER
It seems that I can, at least, perceive you, the first MOTHER
Even if the clock is turned back,
the sins I have committed cannot be rectified
In the beginning, the last prophet was destroyed
Was it too gentle for me?
Reflecting the trauma of long ago,
was I to be a torn sadist until you were the last?