In the howling wind comes a stinging rain

See them 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





(Yeah...alright)





So 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 ;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

As a man breathes into a saxophone

And through the walls we hear the city groan

Outside it's America

Outside it's America





[Spoken part follows]





So I'm back in my hotel room with Johnnie 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