Brian Whitman 
     Jonatha687 

Wide awake in San Diego
Smallest root shrinking dry
The fish are swimming closer inside Lake Marena
Still get no rain from the sky
Men were firing cannons
Hoping smoke might tear an angel's eyes
Heard the stories of shooting arrows
Tearin' open the clouds
But indians shoot the best, man
The indians they don't like us, much

Hatfield
You made rain for L.A.
We've got ten grand
For you to go cook us some rain

Science from the cooking pot mixing up with the air
Feeling thunder
Nights since they have started
Now the clouds won't stay apart
A little California voodoo
Killed Hatfield and his brother

Now the horses won't race where the town's turned to mud
Streams and rivers are growing
And my boots are filling up
Letters from back this way (?)
Look at them smiling, cooking and smiling

Hatfield
Made rain for L.A.
Well, "Hot damn",
People swear with one walk in this rain

Families on porches
The children are smiling
The owners are mad, owners are crying
Still the eyes of the children, wide open
Wide, wide

Well, the blue light is rolling in between the clouds
Feeling of wonder
Some water drying up, some sinking down
"Charles always kept in touch", swears his mother
"Always had the touch"

Made rain for L.A.
Made rain for L.A.
Hatfield