| He prays for the harvest |
| To bring a record yield |
| Five generations counting |
| On his work out in these fields |
| The only life he knows |
| Is the soil that he tills |
| And if the drought dont take it all |
| He knows the banker will |
| He’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| To turn these dusty acres |
| Back to a fertile plain |
| Reward him for his labor |
| Put his life back in his hands |
| He’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| Some were in the city |
| In the hours before dawn |
| She huddles in the doorway |
| To dream her hunger gone |
| Forgotten by the cold world |
| Frightened by her own |
| She sips a little whiskey |
| To forget she is alone |
| He’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| To turn these dusty acres |
| Back to a fertile plain |
| Reward him for his labor |
| Put his life back in his hands |
| He’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| She’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| To lift her from the shadows |
| To give her back her name |
| Turn back all the pages |
| Give he shelter from the storm |
| She’s waiting for a rain of angels |
| And the places where the battle lines are drawn |
| When the bullets fly |
| It doesn’t matter what side your standing on |
| Give the farmer back his land |
| Pull the helpless from the streets |
| Take the guns out of are hands |
| And we will be within the angel’s reach |
| Call down through the ages |
| Wash away the pain |
| Only love will remain |
| We’re all waiting for |
| Still waiting for a rain of angels |