No matter where you go, there you are.

Freedom is taken not given. Freedom is an internal state not a political one. Freedom flows from empathy not laws. We all have the freedom to do whatever we want as long as we don't impinge on anyone else' right to do the same. We all have the freedom to disobey unjust laws, the freedom to do onto all as you'd have them do unto you.

Few today allow themselves the freedom to live their lives as self-directedly as our more agricultural ancestors. My ancestors, our ancestors, lived by the rythmn of the sun and the seasons, lived free from the fears that terrorize us, lived lives now characterized as short and brutal but seen by those living them as fulfilled.

Freedom is not not having rules, instead it's the clear definition of the boundries and rules of a system or culture that allows an individual, outlaw or not, to freely choose a position consistant with their worldview and freely accept whatever consequences are reaped.
One night while I was out a ridin'
The grave yard shift, midnight 'til dawn
The moon was bright as a readin' light
For a letter from an old friend back home
And he asked me

Why do you ride for your money
Tell me why do you rope for short pay
You ain't a'gettin' nowhere
And you're loosin' your share
Boy, you must have gone crazy out there

He said last night I ran on to Jenny
She's married and has a good life
And boy you sure missed the track
When you never come back
She's the perfect professional's wife
And she asked me

Why does he ride for his money
And tell me why does he rope for short pay
He ain't a'gettin' nowhere
And he's loosin' his share
Boy he must've gone crazy out there

Ah, but they've never seen the Northern Lights
They've never seen a hawk on the wing
They've never spent spring on the Great Divide
And they've never heard ole' camp cookie sing
Well I read up the last of my letter
And I tore off the stamp for black Jim
And when Billy rode up to relieve me
He just looked at my letter and grinned
He said now

Why do they ride for their money
Tell me why do they ride for short pay
They ain't a'gettin' nowhere
And they're loosin' their share
Boy, they must've gone crazy out there
Son, they all must be crazy out there

Night Rider's Lament  by Jerry Jeff Walker