For me, Fire is uniquely distinguished in the U2 catalog for being the lowest ranked studio album song of the 1900s.
The primary, thpugh not sole, reason for this is because I care about lyrics, and as far as I can determine, Fire is about fuck all.
For an album marked by the lyrics being hastily put together after a stolen briefcase, this is the song that proves it.
Even Is That All is lyrically deeper and more profound, as is the single word in Scarlet.
You’re having us on, babe.