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Marfa

de Holly Cole

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

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

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

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

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

It's the joy in your heart

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

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