God’s Great Dust Storm

Hold my head

Hold my faith

Hold my eyes to the sky.

When your scythe has, has me cut in

God’s great, great dust storm.

Take my sins

Wash them clean

Pour the last drink for me

And watch me, watch me burn in

God’s great, great dust storm

I’ll be your gimp

Whipped through the skin

In the hour that [bad word] 
There are greedy crows in

God’s great, great dust storm

I have walked the line

In my best black suit

Through fields in sweet quiet mourn

Please let the [bad word] forth in

God's great, great dust storm