The Waters of March Basia
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "The Waters of March" by Basia. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1]
A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
It's the rest of the 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
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The knot of the wood, the song of the thrush
The wood of the wind, the cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump, it is nothin' 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 cope
[Refrain]
And the riverbank talks of the water of March
It's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart
[Interlude]
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
[Verse 2]
A foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
The beat of the road, a slingshot stone
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light
The 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
And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A cock, a quail or the promise of spring
A stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
It's the rest of the 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
The oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The knot of the wood, the song of the thrush
The wood of the wind, the cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump, it is nothin' 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 cope
[Refrain]
And the riverbank talks of the water of March
It's the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart
[Interlude]
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
[Verse 2]
A foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
The beat of the road, a slingshot stone
A truckload of bricks in the soft morning light
The 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
And the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A cock, a quail or the promise of spring
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