The sky turns the loveliest shade
thanks to fires in Glendale
and the waste that they laid.
The harsh sunlight, partially grayed,
and the glare on the billboards
is pleasantly fading.
Oh, no, I’m not too concerned
a hundred houses have burned...
just look what they made.
I was terribly bored
when I gratefully heard
news of San Fernando on fire
and passing news helicoptors requiring
supplies of human suffering for fuel,
as do you and I.
As do you and I.
If California fell in the sea,
I’d be watching the news as the saltwater rose.
Don’t bother rescuing me.
I’ll be watching myself
not emerge from my house on T.V..
And the ratings will surge,
after we are submerged,
on submarine shows.
It's so horrible though,
the humanity—oh,
can you videotape the slaughter?
My VCR's underwater,
already human tragedy-cued,
as are you and I.
As are you and I.
And if the flow of dead celebrities
should suddenly slow
and South America go planecrash-free,
what will we do with ourselves?
I don’t know.
‘Cause every time it seems
as if nothing’s gonna burn
and we’re right down to the wire,
the sky, it turns the loveliest shade,
the sky turns the loveliest shade
thanks to fires in Glendale.
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