Losing Touch - The Killers

Console me in my darkest hour

Could this be that the truth is always grey

Caress me in your velvet chair

Conceal me from the ghost you cast away

I’m in no hurry, you go run

And tell your friends I’m losing touch

Fill their heads with rumours of impending doom

It must be true

Console me in my darkest hour

And tell me that you’ll always hear my cries

I wonder what you got conspired

I’m sure it was the 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 sold your soul, like a Roman vagabond yeah

I heard you found a wishing well

In the city

Console me in my darkest hour (in my darkest hour)

And you throw me down

I’m in no hurry, you go run

And tell your friends I’m losing touch

Fill your crown with rumours

Impending doom, it must be true

But you made your way back home

You sold your soul, like a Roman vagabond

And all that now you got lost, but you made your way back home

You went and sold your soul, an allegiance dead and gone

I’m losing touch