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Lyrics for Waters Of March Águas De Maro by Unknown:



Artist:Unknown
No album artwork found
Album:Unknown
Track:Waters Of March Águas De Maro
 
Date Added:18/10/2007
Views:236
 
Lyrics:Antonio Carlos Jobim

A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road

It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
It's a sliver of
glass, it is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a
gun
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
A knot in
the wood, the song of a thrush
The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall

A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all
It's the wind blowing free,
it's the end of the slope
It's a beam it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a
hope
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's
the end of the strain
The joy in your heart
The foot, the
ground, the flesh and the bone
The beat of the road, a slingshot's stone

A fish, a flash, a silvery glow
A fight, a bet the fange of a
bow
The bed of the well, the end of the line
The dismay in
the face, it's a loss, it's a find
A spear, a spike, a point, a nail

A drip, a drop, the end of the tale
A truckload of bricks in the soft
morning light
The sound of a shot in the dead of the night

A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's
the mumps
The plan of the house, the body in bed
And the
car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a
wing
A hank, a quail, the promise of spring
And the river
bank talks of the waters of March
It's the promise of life, it's the joy in
your heart
A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
It's
the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
A snake, a stick, it is John, it is
Joe
It's a thorn in your hand and a cut in your toe
A
point, a grain, a bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of
night
A pin, a needle, a sting a pain
A snail, a riddle,
a wasp, a stain
A pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule

In the distance the shelves rode three shadows of blue
And the river talks of
the waters of March
It's the promise of life in your heart

A stick, a stone, the end of the road
The rest of a stump, a lonesome
road
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun
A knife, a death,
the end of the run
And the river bank talks of the waters of March

It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart
 
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