Witch Hunt

Version originale

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

The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit 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 possesed
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 theatres 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 fearWalk hand in hand