Witch Hunt - Live in Cleveland

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
 But mob moves like demons possesed
 Quiet in conscience, calm in their right
 Confident their ways are best
 Oh-oh-whoa
 Oh
 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
 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