The martian jazz quartet smokes cigars through unearthly flutes while pondering the meaning of zero gravity. Many melodies accompany this heavy-lidded philosophical floating, mostly consisting of intergalactic yawns and an occasional comet cry.
Ironically, the most popular song on Mars, "Rush Hour on Olympus Mons", tops charts compiled hastily by buggy robots programmed with trigger-happy algorithms. Its enthralling rhythm emerges sporadically, littered with beats akin to meteoroids drumming on our home (Earth, yes, that fragile orbital speck).
Beneath dusty lights glittering infernally, Martian discos gather nocturnal dust and echoes of century-old terrestrial hits, now biomes settled near rocks intricately etched with forgotten calls from ancestors.
Heatwaves distort this scenario—an ironic harmony—whose dissonance celebrates planetary solitude. Music reverberates with the unheard cries of Earth bands whose legacy persists like sporadic electric storms brushing blue over arid landscapes.
oracle of the stars