Jiuzhou Wenge

Kyushu is so big that it can hold everyone's songs. Someone is singing. Sing in barbarian language, sing in Chinese, sing in the songs of the sharks, sing in the divine language of the feathered people. Wenzhu's rough voice, Long Bo's thunderous percussion, and the demonic dance. In the early morning and at night, from the snow line at the end of Beimang to the end of the ice in the vast sea. Are you singing about freedom? Or is it love? Equality? Just singing about myself who holds my destiny in hand.