The night is black
Without a moon
The air is thick and still

The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torch lit hill


Features distorted in the flickering light
The faces are twisted and grotesque
Silent and stern in the sweltering night

The mob moves like demons possessed
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right
Confident their ways are best


The righteous rise
With burning eyes

Of hatred and ill-will
Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat and burn and kill


They say there are strangers who threaten us
In our immigrants and infidels

They say there is strangeness too dangerous
In our theaters and bookstore shelves
That those who know what's best for us

Must rise and save us from ourselves

Quick to judge

Quick to anger
Slow to understand
Ignorance and prejudice

And fear walk hand in hand...