Mom and Dad have worked the fields I don't know how many years I'm just a boy but I know how And go to school when work is slow We have seen our country's roads Bakersfield to Illinois And when troubles come our way Oh yeah, I've seen my daddy pray There's something wrong with little sister I hear her crying by my side Mama's shaking as she holds her We try to hold her through the night And Mom says "Close you eyes, mi'jito Dream of someplace far from here Like the pictures in your schoolbooks Someday you can take us there" "There must be something in the rain" I'm not sure just what that means Abuelita talks of sins of man Of dust that's in our hands "There must be something in the rain" "Well, what else could cause this pain" "Those airplanes cure the plants so things can grow" "Oh no, it must be something in the rain" Little sister's gone away Mama's working long again And me, I think I understand About our life, about our land Well, talkers talk and dreamers dream I will find a place between I'm afraid but I believe That we can change these hurting fields 'Cause there's something in the rain But there's more here in our hands 'Buelita's right about the sins of man Who's profits rape the land And the rains are pouring down From the growers to the towns And until we break the killing chains There's something in the rain