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. You see them burning crosses. You 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. This song is by U2 not POD.