I discovered the valley of the shifting, whispering sands 
While prospecting for gold in one of the western States
I saw the silent windmills, the crazy lopsided water tanks
The bones of cattle and burros, picked clean by buzzards
And bleached by the desert sun

I stumbled over a crumbling buckboard
Almost completely covered by the sand
And stopping to rest, I heard a tinkling, whispering sound
Then suddenly realized that even though the wind was quiet 
The sand did not lie still

I seemed to be surround by a mystery 
So heavy and oppressive I could scarcely breath
For days and weeks I wandered aimlessly in this valley
Seeking answers to the many questions
That raced through my confused mind

Where was everyone?
Why the white bones?
The dry wells 
This barren valley where people must have lived and died

Finally I could go no farther
My food and water gone
I sat down and buried my face in my hands
And resting thus, I learned the secret 
Of the Shifting, whispering sands

When the day is awfully quiet 
And the breeze seems not to blow
One would think the sand was resting
But you'll find this is not so
It is whispering, softly whispering
As it slowly moves along
And for those who stop and listen
It will sing this mournful song

The sidewinders and the horn toads
Of the thorny chaparral
Endless sunny days and moonlit nights
And the coyotes lonely yell

Oh the stars seemed you could touch them
As you lay and gaze on high
At the heavens where we're hoping
We'll be going when we die

