P.O.D.

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