I am a rice bucket, a rice bucket that does not want to follow the crowd. "They" named me Rebellion Bucket. Is the truth of life common? It soon fell in love with other barrels and said I didn't understand anything. Like in the throat, left in the street, opposite is whose door, they always come to ask me: hey, who do you want to be?
"What? Is it so hard that I can't be myself"?