And the highwayman came riding— / Riding—riding— / The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
If I were mad, I ſhould forget my ſonne, / or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he; I am not mad: too well, too well I feele / The different plague of each clamitie.
The law-abiding citizens have nothing to fear from government surveillance... unless the government begins to break the law.
Mine has been a long journey.
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