Waters Of March (Live)
Lyrics
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 gunfull lyrics...
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 gunfull lyrics...
Features Of This Song
classic jazz rootsbrazilian jazz influences
a latin dance style
smooth vocals
vocal scatting
acoustic piano accompaniment
light drumming
acoustic guitar accompaniment
major tonality
These are just a few of the hundreds of attributes cataloged for this song by the Music Genome Project.
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The song of a thrush, the wood of the wind The foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone A fox in the brush, the knot in the wood It's a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun The oak when it blooms In the distance the shelves, grow three shadows of blue Publisher: CORCOVADO MUSIC CORP It's a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope A sudden stroke of night A sliver of glass, a life, a sun A mile, a must, a thrust, a bump It is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun A pin, a needle, a sting, a pain A fight, a bet, the range of a bow And the riverbank talks of the waters of March The plan of the house the body in bed The rest of the stump, a lonesome road It's the wind blowing free, it's the end of a slope It's a thorn in your hand or a cut on your toe A snail, a riddle, a wasp, a stain It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart The beat of the road, a slingshot stone It's the rest of a stump, it's a little alone And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart And the riverbank talks of the waters of March A night, a death, the end of the run A float, a drift, a flight, a wing A drip, a drop, the end of the tale It's the promise of life in your heart, in your heart It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart A stick, a stone, the end of the load A pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule A truckload of bricks, in the soft morning light A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road A fish, a flash, a silvery glow And the riverbank talks of the waters of March A spear, a spike, a point, a nail The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find The shot of a gun in the dead of the night It's a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps A snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe The bed of the well, the end of the line Songwriter: Antonio Carlos Jobim A point, a grain, a bee, a bite, a blink, a buzzard A hawk, a quail, the promise of spring And the riverbank talks of the waters of March A cliff, a fall, a scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all


