I've finally reached a point where I realized that I don't have anything to hide, and I'm also not that overwhelmingly interesting, so I sorta don't care about who knows what about me; there's nothing out there that a skilled investigator couldn't find because there's nothing out there FOR a skilled investigator to find.
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At Fiddler’s Green, where seamen true
When here they’ve done their duty
The bowl of grog shall still renew
And pledge to love and beauty.
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