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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 gun
full 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 gun
full lyrics...
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credits go here
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Features Of This Song
classic jazz roots
brazilian 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