Answer:
I am the red tongue of the earth, that buries cities.
A red drum which sounds without being touched, and grows silent, when it is touched.
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
Looks like water, but it's heat. Sits on sand, lays on concrete. A play on the eyes, but it's all lies.
I always run but never walk, I sometimes sing but cannot talk, No head on which a hat to place, You always look me in the face.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?