Well here we are, the Irish in America. The Irish have been coming to America for years... going back to the Great Famine when the Irish where on the run from starvation... and a British government that couldn't care less. Right up to today, you know, there are more Irish immigrants here in America today that ever... some illegal... some legal. A lot of them are running from high unemployment... some run from the troubles in Northern Ireland... from the hatred of the H-blocks... and torture... others from wild acts of terrorism like we had today in a town called Enniskillen, where eleven people lay dead, and many more injured... on a Sunday Bloody Sunday.
[song begins]
I can't believe the news today I can't close my eyes and make it go away How long How long must we sing this song How long
Tonight We can be as one Tonight
Broken bottles under children's feet Bodies strewn across a dead-end street but I won't heed the battle call it puts my back up, my back up against the wall
Sunday Bloody Sunday Sunday Bloody Sunday
And this battle's yet begun There's many lost, but tell me, who has won? The trenches dug within our hearts and mothers, children, brothers, sisters, torn apart
Sunday Bloody Sunday Sunday Bloody Sunday
How long How long must we sing this song How long
Tonight We can be as one Tonight
[Bono holds the music as he launches into an improptu speech]
Yeah! And let me tell you something... I've had enough of Irish-Americans who haven't been back to their country in 20 or 30 years, come up to me and talk about the resistance, the revolution back home. And the glory of the revolution. And the glory of dying for the revolution.
Fuck the revolution!
They don't talk about the glory of killing for the revolution...
What's the glory... in taking a man from his bed, and gunning him down in front of his wife and his children? Where's the glory in that? Where's the glory in bombing a remembrance day parade of old-age pensioners, their medals taken out and polished up for the day? Where's the glory in that? To leave them dying.... or crippled for life... or dead... under the rubble... of a revolution... that the majority of the people in my country don't want.
No more! Sing! No more!
[song restarts]
No more!
Wipe your tears away...
Wipe your tears away...
Wipe your bloodshot eyes...
Sunday Bloody Sunday Sunday Bloody Sunday
And it's true we are immune When fact is fiction and TV reality And today the millions die We eat and drink while tomorrow they die
And the battle's just begun To claim the victory that Jesus won...