When these old adobe walls
Turn to dust and then they fall
And the creatures of the night
call out your name
Mother
Nature, she'll grab hold
Of all the things that we've let go
Here comes an ill -intentioned
wind that knows your name
In the desert night it builds
Near
Gila,
Monster
Hills, a wisp of dust
Then a whisper, then a curse
Soon it's ninety miles an hour
Near
El
Centro,
Water
Tower
Look out,
El
Cajon, you'll be the first
How those
Santa winds begin to blow
From
Death
Valley to the wide
Pacific shore
Won't be no saints come marchin' in
No movie stars or clergymen
Where will you run when that wind
howls neath your door
When that sand and wind begins to
roar
California, my home state
Cars of people sit and wait
They know it's coming.
They can feel it in their bones
All that real estate and pride
All those
Indians that died while a
Spanish priest danced the drunk
fandango
They say the troubadours invented love
A thousand years before the flood
They rode from town to town
Singing of the mystery
Well, the wind sings its own song
Moving pa tiently along
Burning down the lives of
Western history
Now that
Santa
Ana wind begins to blow
From
Death
Valley to the wide
Pacific shore
Only no saints come marching in
No cowboy stars or clergymen
Where will you run when that wind
howls neath your door?
When that saddened wind begins to roar
When that
Santa
Anna will be
Mr.
Lord