Console me in my darkest hour
|
Convince me that the truth is always grey
|
Caress me in your velvet chair
|
Conceal me from the ghosts you cast away
|
|
I'm in no hurry
|
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch.
|
Fill their heads with rumors of impending doom
|
It must be true.
|
|
Console me in my darkest hour
|
And tell me that you always hear my cries
|
I wonder what you've got conspired
|
I'm sure it dawns a consolation prize
|
|
I'm in no hurry
|
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch.
|
Fill the night with stories, the legend grows
|
Of how you got lost
|
But you made your way back home
|
You went and sold your soul
|
Like a Roman vagabond, yeah
|
|
I heard you from the wishing well in the city
|
Console me in my darkest hour
|
Then you throw me down
|
|
I'm in no hurry
|
You go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch
|
Fill your crown with rumors
|
Impending doom, it must be true
|
|
But you made your way back home
|
You sold your soul like a Roman vagabond
|
And about how you got lost,
|
But you made your way back home
|
An allegiance dead and gone
|
|
I'm losing touch
|
|
-----------------
|
Losing Touch
|
| The Killers |
