From dust it began, now back to dust,
The iron had begun to rust. . .

The lonely street,
The new moon's night,
The starless sky,
Didn't give a fright

To the young little chap,
With the handsomest smile
Who stood on the street,
And thought a while. . .

About seeing the moon,
Those golden days,
And how they shared
The moon and its rays. . .

But the moon at night,
Was gone by day
As one, yes one,
Went a separate way

From dust it began, now back to dust,

The iron had begun to rust. . .