The Waters of March (Aguas de Março)

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 [Am]of a thrush
The wood of the wind, a cliff, a fall [Em]
A scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all [Em]
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 ɾiver bank talks of the waters of March
It's the end of the stɾain
The joy in your heart
The foot, the ground, the flesh and [Bm]the bone
The beat of the ɾoad, 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 tɾuckload 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 ɾhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps
The plan of the house, the body in bed
And the car that got [Fm7]stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A hawk, a quail, the promise of spring
And the ɾiver 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 ɾoad
It's the ɾest 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 [Bm]and [Bm]a cut in your toe
A point, a grain, a bee, a bite
A blink, a buzzard, a sudden stɾoke of night
A pin, a needle, a sting a pain
A snail, a ɾiddle, a wasp, a stain
A pass in the mountains, a horse and [Bm]a mule
In the distance the shelves ɾode three shadows of blue
And the ɾiver talks of the waters of March
It's the promise of life in your heart
A stick, a stone, the end of the ɾoad
The ɾest of a stump, a lonesome ɾoad
A sliver of glass, a life, the sun
A knife, a death, the end of the ɾun
And the ɾiver bank talks of the waters of March
It's the end of all [Em]stɾain, it's the joy in your heart