Somewhere high in the desert near a curtain of blue
Saint Ann's skirts are billowing
But down here in the city of limelights
The fans of Santa Ana are withering
And you can't deny the living is easy
If you never look behind the scenery
It's showtime for dry climes
Bedlam is dreaming of rain
When the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze, even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burning
This is not a test
Of the emergency broadcast system
When Malibu fires and radio towers
Conspire to dance again
And I cannot believe the media Mecca
They're only trying to peddle reality
Catch it on primetime, story at 9
The whole world is going insane
When the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze, even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burning
A placard reads the end of days
Jacaranda boughs are bending in the haze
More a question than a curse, how could hell be any worse?
The flames are starting, the camera's running, so take warning
When the hills of Los Angeles are burning
Palm trees are candles in the murder wind
So many lives are on the breeze, even the stars are ill at ease
And Los Angeles is burning