Before, I'd scream that I was swell
Or blue, depressed or ill
But now my answers' sharp and honed
My bucket shalt not spill
And when you shake and slap me
If I'm knocked upside the head
The liquid stays inside the bucket
Safe tucked in it's bed
It used to spill out all the time when it really wasn't proper
But I've invested pain and months in a very hearty stopper
The problem is it just won't budge even when my ground's not shaking
So if I smile or cry to you just know that I am faking