The pitch of the night

The truth burns

So they turn

Their faces away

From the sun

When small liberties

Began to fray

When their constitution

Was being chipped away

When their newspapers

Were shut down

When their rule of law

Was twisted around

When might became right

And their friends

Were carried off screaming

In the pitch of the night

They chose ignorance

Feigned blindness

Pleaded ignorance

And now when the shadow of the jackboot hangs

Ominous over their beloved land

They walk as zombies

Unable to distinguish right from

Wrong from right

Their minds furred with lichens

Like the dark side of trees

The truth burns

So they turn

Their faces away

From the sun