Console me in my darkest hour
Convince me that the truth is always grey
Caress me in your velvet chair
Conceal me from the ghost you cast awayI ain't 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 trueConsole 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 dons a consolation prizeI ain't in no hurry, you go run and tell your friends
I'm losing touch
Fill the night with stories, the legend growsOf how you got lost, but you made your way back home
You sold your soul like a Roman Vagabond, yeahI heard you found a wishing well
In the city
Console me in my darkest hour
And you throw me downI ain't in no hurry, you go run and tell your friends
I'm losing touch
Fill your crown with rumors
Impending doom
It must be trueBut 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
You went and sold your soul, an allegiance dead and gone
I'm losing touch
Composição: The Killers.
