Some kind of violent bliss/Led me to love like this/One thousand deaths my dear/I’m dying without you here
Capping an end-of-record trifecta of the YYYs’ tender, sparkling, anthemic pop stride, it’s confusing as to how this record morphs from beast to burden, as these final moments of U2 arena swell roll out. But the stake is clearly love, and the poetry matches the arch; [LISTEN].