The Microphones
Painful Storms Will Always Come to Blur My Way
What?
So I can sing a love poetic
And in my songs I can claim a voice prophetic
And then somehow from caching be exempt?
(no)
What?
So I can see a glow, a glimmer
And feast on fruits of all the singers
But not be stung somehow by yearning's stinger
(no)
So supposedly I'm strong
And I cultivate a luscious lawn
But my crops can fail, I can also be wrong
I can woo a distant beauty
But hopeless missing always rules me
There's no invincible disguise that lasts all day
Painful storms will always come to blur my way
And conversely blurry storms will go their way
There's no invincible disguise that lasts all day

The act is sweet but it casts a shadow just the same