~

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 grass, 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 on 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, It's the joy in your heart

The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
The beat of the road, a slingshot's stone

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 hawk, 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 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, 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 , in your heart

…the end of the road…a little alone
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 promise of life, it’s the joy in your heart
And the river bank talks of the waters of March
It’s the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart
The waters of March…
And the river bank talks of the waters of March

Jobim