Silent whispers from Mars
Dust gathers to provoke
There is a mist over the moon
The man in the moon must have spoke.
He drifts here and there
No footprints to show his path
He silently moans, he groans
lets out the occasional laugh.
He is watching our planet
Watching the waste and mist
He whispers good nothings into the air
and desperately shakes his fist.
In despair he sends out a whisper
Blows a kiss from his icy blue hand
The deserts catch it, and keep its secret
and now it is buried beneath our sand.