DUST STORM.  Dusty, dusty wind. Sand in my shoes. I can’t grow a goddamn thing. What do I do?  Dust storm. Da-do-do-do-to-do. Windy, windy dust. Sandy teeth! Trumpet solo. Dust storm. Sandy, sandy air.  We should probably wear some kind of ventilating mask. A tumbleweed just went from there to there. Dust storm! Here comes a cyclone. Just look at them.  I’ll never find my Auntie Em. There is no place like home. And no matter how far my wanderlust may roam, there’s something in my heart that keeps me safe and warm. It’s a dust storm. Dust storm. It’s your old trusty, not damp and musty, gonna make your tractor tires old and rusty. It’s a DUST STORM.