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Storms never last, do they, baby?
Bad times all pass with the wind;
Your hand in mine stills the thunder,
And your love makes the sun want to shine.
I followed you down so many roads, baby,
We picked wild flowers and I sang you soft, sad songs;
Ah, but every road we took, God knows,
The search was for the truth;
And the storms brewing now aren't meant to last.
Storms never last, do they, baby?
And bad times all pass with the wind;
And your hand in mine stills the thunder,
And your love makes the sun want to shine.
Well, I followed you down so many roads, baby,
We picked wild flowers and I sang you soft, sad songs;
Ah, but every road we took, God knows,
The search was for the truth;
And the storms brewing now aren't meant to last.
Storms never last, do they, baby?
And bad times all pass with the wind;
Your hand in mine stills the thunder,
And your love makes the sun want to shine.
And your love makes the sun want to shine.
