Language   

Bullet The Blue Sky

U2
Back to the song page with all the versions


OriginalRattle And Hum version
BULLET THE BLUE SKY

In the howling wind comes a stinging rain
See it driving nails
Into the souls on the tree of pain
From the firefly, a red orange glow
See the face of fear
Running 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
See them burning crosses
See the flames higher and higher

Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue

This guy comes up to me
His face red like a rose on a thorn bush
Like all the colors of a royal flush
And he's peeling off those dollar bills
Slapping them 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
You take the staircase to the first floor
Turn the key and slowly unlock the door
As a man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls you hear the city groan
Outside is America
Outside is America

Across the field you see the sky ripped open
See the rain through a gaping wound
Pounding on the women and children
Who run
Into the arms
Of America
BULLET THE BLUE SKY


In the howling wind comes a stinging rain
See them driving nails into the souls on the tree of pain
From the firefly, red orange glow
I see the face of fear running scared in the valley below

Sky
Sky
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
I see them burning crosses
See the flames higher and higher

Sky
Sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue sky
Bullet the blue
Bullet the blue

Yeah... alright, I want you

So 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 peeling off those dollar bills
Slapping 'em down
One hundred
Two hundred

And I can see those fighter planes
I can see those fighter planes
Across the mud huts where the children sleep
Through the valleys and the quiet city street
We take the staircase to the first floor
We turn the key and slowly unlock the door
A man breathes into a saxophone
And through the walls we hear the city groan
Outside it's America
Outside it's America

So I'm back in my hotel room with John Coltrane and the love supreme
In the next room I hear some woman scream out that her lover's
Turning off, turning on the television.
And I can't tell the difference between ABC news, Hill Street Blues
And a preacher on the old time gospel hour
Stealing money from the sick and the old
Well the God I believe in isn't short of cash, mister

I feel a long way from the hills of San Salvador
Where the sky is ripped open
And the rain pours through a gaping wound
Pelting the women and children
Pelting the women and children

Who run... who run...
Into the arms... of America


Back to the song page with all the versions

Main Page

Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.




hosted by inventati.org