| 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 torch-lit 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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| The 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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| Oh, oh!
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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 to danger us
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| In our theaters and bookstore shelves
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| That 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 |