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The night is black without a moon |
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The air is thick and still |
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The vigilantes gather on |
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The lonely, torchlit hill |
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Features distorted, in the flickering light |
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Faces are twisted and grotesque |
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Silent and stern in the sweltering night |
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Mob moves like demons possessed |
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Quiet in conscience, calm in their right |
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Confident their ways are best |
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The righteous rise with burning eyes |
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Of hatred and ill-will |
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Madmen fed on fear and lies |
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To beat and burn and kill |
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They say there are strangers who threaten us |
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Our immigrants and infidels |
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They say there is strangeness too dangerous |
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In our theaters and bookstore shelves |
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Those who know what's best for us |
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Must rise and save us from ourselves |
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Quick to judge, quick to anger |
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Slow to understand |
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Ignorance and prejudice |
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And fear walk hand in hand |
