I still like you, like the wind that travels eight thousand miles without asking the date of return.
I still like you, like wandering in the clouds and falling in love with the wind, regardless of where you are.
I still like you, like rain falling on the polar regions, thousands of miles away.
I still like you, it doesn't matter if you steal the chicken or not, I have plenty of rice.
It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, I still like you, Fake Rice's tomb-robber fan!