Somewhere high in the desert near a curtain of a blue 
St. Anne's skirts are billowing
But down here in the city of the lime lights 
The fans of santa ana are withering
And you can’t deny that 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 
Where 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 burnin 
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