In this small room I keep hearing someone calling, as I hold on not to look back. Instead, I'd rather fall in the deep than having to look at him. He feels like... when you're walking on dirty fields, «Oh! So cute, the nature!» an then, when you look at your shoes, all you can see is shit. Then someone has to clean it. And it's not going to be you, is it? Haven't you cleaned enough shit from the others?
Well... someday I'll be respected. Maybe I have to do more, so I can earn it. Respect.
