When the wind picked up the fire spread,
And the grapevines seemed left for dead.
And the northern sky looked like the end of days,
The end of days.

The wake up call to a rented room,
Sounded like an alarm of impending doom,
To warn us it's only a matter of time,
Before we all burn.
Before we all burn.
Before we all burn.
Before we all burn.

We bought some wine and some paper cups,
Near your daughter's school when we picked her up,
And drove to a cemetery on a hill.
On a hill.

And we watched the plumes paint the sky gray,
And she laughed and danced through the field of graves.
There I knew it would be alright.
That everything would be alright.
Would be alright.
Would be alright.
Would be alright.

And the news reports on the radio said it was getting worse,
As the ocean air fanned the flames.
But I couldn't think of anywhere I would have rather been,
To watch it all burn away.
To burn away.

The firemen worked in double shifts,
With prayers for rain on their lips.
And they knew it was only a matter of time.