In “Volcano”, U2 taps into a current of unfiltered energy, one that fuses personal unrest with cultural upheaval. The song is raw, immediate, and unstable—like its title, it carries the threat of eruption. But beneath its explosive surface lies a meditation on identity, isolation, and creative defiance.
The opening lines—“You’re out of your mind / Not in your right mind”—set a tone of dislocation. This is a self addressed in crisis. The repetition suggests an inner voice caught in conflict, grappling with sanity, belonging, and purpose.
U2 here is not nostalgic.
The song doesn’t look back fondly. It pulls us into the restless urgency of youth, where confusion and rage are not passing phases but survival responses.
Bono invokes the feeling of being “out in the wild,” an image that can be read politically and spiritually. It recalls growing up in 1970s Dublin, amid the sectarian tensions of the Troubles. The wild is not just external chaos—it’s also the spiritual wilderness that comes with questioning institutions: church, family, nation.
The volcano, central to the lyric, is more than a metaphor for anger.
It is potential energy.
It holds everything suppressed: grief, frustration, shame, desire. When Bono sings, “Volcano, you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know,” he touches the line between fear and temptation—the dread of what might emerge, and the need to face it anyway.
The line “Your eyes were black with something wrong” points to a moment of self-recognition. It captures the realization that transformation requires confrontation—that you have to look into the fire.
Then comes the reversal:
“You were alone / But you are rock n’ roll.”
It’s not just about music. It’s about becoming. About using expression—rage, performance, language—as a way through pain. Music here is not an escape from trauma; it’s a way of naming and containing it.
Rock, in this frame, is survival instinct.
The use of “landing lights” fading is telling. Once, there was direction, even faith. But now the map is gone. What replaces it isn’t resolution, but motion. Eruption becomes movement.
Thematically, “Volcano” fits within Songs of Innocence’s exploration of memory, trauma, and the forging of self. It’s a younger brother to earlier U2 songs like “Out of Control” or “Stories for Boys”, but now filtered through the lens of retrospection. It’s not a song from the past—it’s a return to it with the clarity that comes only after surviving it.
U2 doesn't romanticize the volatility of youth.
They document it.
They understand that identity isn’t discovered—it’s detonated. And from that detonation, something new can be built.
You can hurt yourself tryin’ to hold on
To what you used to be
I’m so glad the past is gone
Been out in the wild
Been out in the night
Been out of your mind
Do you live here or is this a vacation
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Your eyes were like landing lights
They used to be the clearest blue
Now you don’t see so well
The future’s gonna land on you
Been out in the wild
Been out in the night
Been out of your mind
Do you live here or is this a vacation
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
You’re on a piece of ground above a volcano
You were alone
And now you’re not alone
You were alone
But you are rock n’ roll
You and I are rock n’ roll
But you are rock n’ roll
You and I are rock n’ roll
Oh, volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
You’re on a piece of ground above a volcano
The opening lines—“You’re out of your mind / Not in your right mind”—set a tone of dislocation. This is a self addressed in crisis. The repetition suggests an inner voice caught in conflict, grappling with sanity, belonging, and purpose.
U2 here is not nostalgic.
The song doesn’t look back fondly. It pulls us into the restless urgency of youth, where confusion and rage are not passing phases but survival responses.
Bono invokes the feeling of being “out in the wild,” an image that can be read politically and spiritually. It recalls growing up in 1970s Dublin, amid the sectarian tensions of the Troubles. The wild is not just external chaos—it’s also the spiritual wilderness that comes with questioning institutions: church, family, nation.
The volcano, central to the lyric, is more than a metaphor for anger.
It is potential energy.
It holds everything suppressed: grief, frustration, shame, desire. When Bono sings, “Volcano, you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know,” he touches the line between fear and temptation—the dread of what might emerge, and the need to face it anyway.
The line “Your eyes were black with something wrong” points to a moment of self-recognition. It captures the realization that transformation requires confrontation—that you have to look into the fire.
Then comes the reversal:
“You were alone / But you are rock n’ roll.”
It’s not just about music. It’s about becoming. About using expression—rage, performance, language—as a way through pain. Music here is not an escape from trauma; it’s a way of naming and containing it.
Rock, in this frame, is survival instinct.
The use of “landing lights” fading is telling. Once, there was direction, even faith. But now the map is gone. What replaces it isn’t resolution, but motion. Eruption becomes movement.
Thematically, “Volcano” fits within Songs of Innocence’s exploration of memory, trauma, and the forging of self. It’s a younger brother to earlier U2 songs like “Out of Control” or “Stories for Boys”, but now filtered through the lens of retrospection. It’s not a song from the past—it’s a return to it with the clarity that comes only after surviving it.
U2 doesn't romanticize the volatility of youth.
They document it.
They understand that identity isn’t discovered—it’s detonated. And from that detonation, something new can be built.
'Volcano' song lyrics by U2
The world is spinning fast tonightYou can hurt yourself tryin’ to hold on
To what you used to be
I’m so glad the past is gone
Been out in the wild
Been out in the night
Been out of your mind
Do you live here or is this a vacation
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Your eyes were like landing lights
They used to be the clearest blue
Now you don’t see so well
The future’s gonna land on you
Been out in the wild
Been out in the night
Been out of your mind
Do you live here or is this a vacation
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
You’re on a piece of ground above a volcano
You were alone
And now you’re not alone
You were alone
But you are rock n’ roll
You and I are rock n’ roll
But you are rock n’ roll
You and I are rock n’ roll
Oh, volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna know
You’re on a piece of ground above a volcano
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Three thematically connected songs from Songs of Innocence are "Iris (Hold Me Close)," "Cedarwood Road," and "The Miracle (of Joey Ramone)."
Each track explores themes of personal history, loss, and the transformative power of music and memory. "Iris (Hold Me Close)" is a poignant reflection on Bono’s relationship with his late mother, Iris, whose untimely death left a profound impact on his life. The song taps into the grief, love, and enduring connection he feels with her spirit, embodying the album’s exploration of formative emotional scars.
"Cedarwood Road" traces Bono's memories of his childhood home in Dublin, portraying the street as both a battleground and a sanctuary, where he struggled to define himself amidst the political and social tensions of Ireland in the 1970s. The song's title references the literal and metaphorical path that shaped his identity, marked by anger, friendship, and resilience.
"The Miracle (of Joey Ramone)" celebrates the liberating force of music, particularly the influence of the punk rock icon Joey Ramone, who inspired Bono to find his voice. In each song, U2 taps into personal experiences of loss, change, and salvation, weaving a narrative of how the past—though sometimes painful—propels personal growth and creative expression.
