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
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 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
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 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
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 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
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 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
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 The foot, the ground
 A stick, a stone
 It's a hunch, it's a hope