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Headlines on Fire, Snow on the Wire
World News: Rock Edition

Headlines on Fire, Snow on the Wire

4:56
February 2, 2026
Headlines on Fire, Snow on the Wire
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Lyrics & Sources

Headlines on Fire, Snow on the Wire

Verse 1 — Texas Turns

Blue sparks in the Lone Star sky, Courthouse bells for a seat in D.C. Menefee riding past the red road signs, A veteran union voice breaks Tarrant concrete. The map redraws in midnight ink, Party brass says, “This is your warning, see.”

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Chorus

Turn it up, the world’s on the fretboard, wired, Borders and ballots, headlines on fire. From desert drums to cities that never tire, We rage, we hope, we raise it higher. Hold the line, hold the line—don’t let it expire.


Verse 2 — Streets of L.A.

Downtown beats chant “ICE Out” in the heat, Daytime peace, then sirens kiss the night. Fireworks arc to shields in the street, Pepper haze blooms under city hall lights. Cuffs click tight where the concrete meets, And justice feels just out of sight.

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Chorus

Turn it up, the world’s on the fretboard, wired, Borders and ballots, headlines on fire. From desert drums to cities that never tire, We rage, we hope, we raise it higher. Hold the line, hold the line—don’t let it expire.


Verse 3 — Tehran Tremors

An old fist lifts under a black turban crown, Saying a spark could torch the whole sand sea. A carrier prowls the Arabian brown, Accusations of oil-thirst tyranny. Dissent called sedition, Europe named with a brand, Cells swell as neighbors beg diplomacy.

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Verse 4 — Balochistan Bleeds

Hospitals, schools, and markets in smoke, The BLA says the strike was theirs. Forces sweep through the dust they broke, Gwadar mourns with family prayers. Islamabad points east, denials choke, While fortune roads tremble for foreign heirs.

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Chorus

Turn it up, the world’s on the fretboard, wired, Borders and ballots, headlines on fire. From desert drums to cities that never tire, We rage, we hope, we raise it higher. Hold the line, hold the line—don’t let it expire.


Verse 5 — Rafah’s Gate

Rafah creaks open like a rusted hymn, A pilot light flickers in a tunnel of years. Patients clutch papers with trembling limbs, Israel, Egypt, Europe tune the gears. A hostage returned as a whisper and hymn, Footsteps test sand that remembers tears.

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Verse 6 — Bomb Cyclone Blues

Carolinas buried in a white guitar roar, Queen City wears a crown of snow. A cold blade kisses the citrus shore, Flurries find bays where warm winds blow. Lights go dark, runways close their doors, The storm signs its name where the tall pines grow.

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Bridge

Borders crack, ballots flip, Night sirens, a whiteout whip. Desert thunder, coastal cry, Steel strings cut the winter sky. Raise your voice, let embers fly— Choose the spark that won’t die.


Final Chorus

Turn it up, the world’s on the fretboard, wired, Borders and ballots, headlines on fire. From war drums low to hope’s choir, We rage, we heal, we climb higher. Hold the line, hold the line—hearts never tire. Headlines on fire—now we’re the wire.

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