He likes to sail pirate ships on the waters of Mars,
but it's his secret, it's his secret.
Stardust tumbles, gleaming, from his perfect lips in erratic spirals
Falling up into the indigo sky and destined to swirl around the world
Their whispers are the dust particles of their souls burrowing themselves into the Earth
Or ashes, mere remnants settled decidedly to a hostile hearth
His breath is nearly perfect Mercury with drops of Saturn
(with a pleasant ring to it)
Their breath is dripping with mercury poison
vermillion seeping into their smokers' lungs.
His tears are sacred and his bargains are sly and he spins cerulean
straight into the Earth's sky.
Every precious second is occupied as he explodes, supernova, but they'll never know.
It's his secret, it's his secret.