They come from the West,
Covered in ashes,
Suit cases of soot.

They call them Californians,
Nomads from the west coast.
They come from burning cities,
On bare foot.

They've got stone faces,
Hardened gazes.
I can't imagine how it must be,
To have your home,
Burned from gables,
To ground.

God bless the Californians,
Lot of lost souls from the West Coast.