Lyrics: Holly Cole. Waters Of March.
:
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 gun
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 range of a bow
The wood of the wind,
The steps in the hall
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all
A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
It's the end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light,
A shot of a gun
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,
It's the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in your face,
It's a loss, it's a find
A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe
Well the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
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 stick, a stone,
The end of the load,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of despair
It's the joy in your heart.
It's the joy in your heart.
It's the joy in your heart.
The foot, the ground,
A stick, a stone,
It's a hunch, it's a hope
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 gun
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 range of a bow
The wood of the wind,
The steps in the hall
A scratch, a lump,
It is nothing at all
A spear, a spike,
A point, a nail,
A drip, a drop,
It's the end of the tale
A truckload of bricks
In the soft morning light,
A shot of a gun
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,
It's the car that got stuck,
It's the mud, it's the mud
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
Afloat, adrift,
A flight, a wing,
A hawk, a quail,
The promise of spring
The bed of the well,
The end of the line,
The dismay in your face,
It's a loss, it's a find
A snake, a stick,
It is John, it is Joe,
It's a thorn in your hand
and a cut in your toe
Well the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the promise of life
It's the joy in your heart
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 stick, a stone,
The end of the load,
The rest of a stump,
A lonesome road
And the riverbank talks
of the waters of March,
It's the end of despair
It's the joy in your heart.
It's the joy in your heart.
It's the joy in your heart.
The foot, the ground,
A stick, a stone,
It's a hunch, it's a hope
Cole Holly
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