Mother, you ask me to cut the cake
But mother, oh my sweet mother,
I'm merely holding a knife here

Mother you think it's my birthday and I should be happy,
But little do you know,
Mother, my incognisant mother

You see, this here in my soft, tender hands
It's more tempting than the candles you brought,
More intimidating than you sitting in front,
It brings the flashbacks more than a picture does

To you, it's something as superficial as love
But to me, my mother
To me, it's a reminder of all the things I could never be,
That I belong to no one,
And mother, that none belongs to me