WATERS OF MARCH
(Antonio Carlos Jobim)
	
A stick, a stone 
It's the end of the road 
It's the rest of a stump 
It's a litle 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, 
The 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 riverbank talks 
Of the waters of March 
It's the end of the strain, 
It's the joy in your heart 
The foot, the ground, 
the flesh and the bone, 
The beat of the road, 
A sling shot stone, 
A fish, a flash, 
A silvery glow, 
A fight, a bet, 
The range 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 spare, a spike, 
A point, a nail, 
A drip, a drop, 
The end of the tale, 
A truck load of bricks 
In the soft morning light, 
The 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 rime, 
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 hawk, a quail, 
The promise of spring, 
And the riverbank talks 
Of the waters of March 
It's the promise of life 
It's the joy in your heart 
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 riverbank talks 
Of the waters of March 
It's the promise of life 
In your heart, in your heart 
A stick, a stone, 
The end of the load, 
The rest of a stump, 
A lonesome rode, 
A sliver of glass, 
A life, the sun, 
A night, a death, 
The end of the run, 
And the riverbank talks 
Of the waters of March 
It's the end of all strain, 
It's the joy in your heart