Trees they are fallingnDown from the skynEvery year they burn upnIn the firennAnd we dash their painnIn the dry, dry rainnBits of ash that are floatingnIn the airnnOh, the sun it don't shine over herenAnd smoke chokes the lightnIt looks half the same in the day and the nightnnSanta Ana WindnBlowing hot againnThe devil moon is watchingnFrom the skynAnd we wait with your tears in our throatsnBut we can't seem to crynSanta Ana WindnWon't you blow on bynnNow can you fight fire with firen'Cause the rain it don't comenIt seems like ain't no way to stop nThat red lady when she wants to runnLord, she wants to runnnAnd the mountain's hidenBefore our eyesnCloaked in black to protect usnFrom the sightnnSanta Ana WindnBlowing hot againnThe devil moon is watchingnFrom the skynAnd we wait with your tears in our throatsnBut we, we can't seem to crynSanta Ana WindnWon't you blow on bynnBlow on by (x3)