Positively sick and tired of wilting sweet potato vines and dried, nasty, brown grass. I can never escape this song running through my head when I look out onto our tired old yard.

I accompanied my Junior High choir, just 12 years old with Mrs. Middleton directing. G.R. girls, is she still alive? She is the reason I sing today!


Once she said to a 80 pound intimidated girl in stonewashed jeans, “Angie, why are you in this class?!”
(Mind you, she barked it in front of everyone!)

And that demin-clad girl boldy aswered back, “To sing, Mrs. Middleton.”

And with all the confirmation I may ever need she answered back,
“Then sing!”

I live in a desert,
only trouble comes my way,
as I try to make a living off the land.

All the trees have withered,
and the birds have flown away,

and my shattered dreams have gone with the shiftin’ sand.

Send down the rain,
to wash the dusty sky,

Send down the rain,
To water the thirsty land.

Send down the rain,

to sooth my burning soul again.

Lord, I’ve had it with troubles,
Disappointment, broken dreams,

and I long to see the lightning flashin’ ’round.

You know I’m a believer,
and you know I’m, praying hard,
to hear the rolling thunder’s mighty sound.

Send down the rain,
to wash the dusty sky,

Send down the rain,

To water the thirsty land.
Send down the rain,
To sooth my burning soul again.