-->Witch Hunt
   
   
       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 possessed
     Quiet in concience, 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, 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
   
   
     
                                              Rush
                                               MOVING PICTURES