Distrust
He walks the safest way;
There must be no thistles on his path.
He knows all men are clay.
If truth wears feathers in her cap,
They must be plucked away,
That all may proven be.
There must be no thistles on his path.
He knows all men are clay.
If truth wears feathers in her cap,
They must be plucked away,
That all may proven be.
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