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A stick, a stone, |
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It's the end of the road, |
|
It's the rest of a stump, |
|
It's a little alone |
|
|
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It's a sliver of glass, |
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It is life, it's the sun, |
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It is night, it is death, |
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It's a trap, it's a gun |
|
|
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The oak when it blooms, |
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A fox in the brush, |
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A knot in the wood, |
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The song of a thrush |
|
|
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The wood of the wind, |
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A cliff, a fall, |
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A scratch, a lump, |
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It is nothing at all |
|
|
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It's the wind blowing free, |
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It's the end of the slope, |
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It's a beam, it's a void, |
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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, |
|
The joy in your heart |
|
|
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The foot, the ground, |
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The flesh and the bone, |
|
The beat of the road, |
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A slingshot's stone |
|
|
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A fish, a flash, |
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A silvery glow, |
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A fight, a bet, |
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The range of a bow |
|
|
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The bed of the well, |
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The end of the line, |
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The dismay in the face, |
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It's a loss, it's a find |
|
|
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A spear, a spike, |
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A point, a nail, |
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A drip, a drop, |
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The end of the tale |
|
|
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A truckload of bricks |
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in the soft morning light, |
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The shot of a gun |
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in the dead of the night |
|
|
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A mile, a must, |
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A thrust, a bump, |
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It's a girl, it's a rhyme, |
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It's a cold, it's the mumps |
|
|
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The plan of the house, |
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The body in bed, |
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And the car that got stuck, |
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It's the mud, it's the mud |
|
|
|
Afloat, adrift, |
|
A flight, a wing, |
|
A hawk, a quail, |
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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 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, |
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It's a thorn in your hand |
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and a cut in your toe |
|
|
|
A point, a grain, |
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A bee, a bite, |
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A blink, a buzzard, |
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A sudden stroke of night |
|
|
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A pin, a needle, |
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A sting, a pain, |
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A snail, a riddle, |
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A wasp, a stain |
|
|
|
A pass in the mountains, |
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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 road, |
|
The rest of a stump, |
|
A lonesome road |
|
|
|
A sliver of glass, |
|
A life, the sun, |
|
A knife, 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. |
