Bullet The Blue Sky
In the howlin' wind
Comes a stingin' rain
See it drivin' nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain
From the firefly
A red orange glow
See the face of fear
Runnin' scared in the valley below
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
In the locust wind
Comes a rattle and hum
Jacob wrestled the angel
And the angel was overcome
You plant a demon seed
You raise a flower of fire
We see them burnin' crosses
See the flames, higher and higher
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
And this guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colours of a royal flush
And he's peelin' off those dollar bills, slappin' 'em down
One hundred, two hundred
And I can see those fighter planes
And I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts where the children sleep
Through the alleys of a quiet city street
And take the staircase to the first floor
We turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As the man breathes into his saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside, it's America
Outside, it's America
America
See across the field
See the sky ripped open
See the rain comin' through the gapin' wound
Pelting the women and children
Who run into the arms
Of America
Comes a stingin' rain
See it drivin' nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain
From the firefly
A red orange glow
See the face of fear
Runnin' scared in the valley below
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
In the locust wind
Comes a rattle and hum
Jacob wrestled the angel
And the angel was overcome
You plant a demon seed
You raise a flower of fire
We see them burnin' crosses
See the flames, higher and higher
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue
And this guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colours of a royal flush
And he's peelin' off those dollar bills, slappin' 'em down
One hundred, two hundred
And I can see those fighter planes
And I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts where the children sleep
Through the alleys of a quiet city street
And take the staircase to the first floor
We turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As the man breathes into his saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside, it's America
Outside, it's America
America
See across the field
See the sky ripped open
See the rain comin' through the gapin' wound
Pelting the women and children
Who run into the arms
Of America
Credits
Writer(s): Larry Mullen, Paul David Hewson, Dave Evans, Vieux Farka Toure, Adam Clayton, Eric Herman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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