Somewhere high in the desert near a curtain of blue
St. Anne'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
And 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 Prime Time
Story at nine
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
placard reads "the end of days"
Jacaranda boughs are bending in the haze
More a question than a curse
How could [bad word] be any worse
The flames are stunning
The [bad word] 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