Lyrics Losing Touch

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 away

I aint 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 always hear my cries
I wonder what you've got conspired
I'm sure it dawns a consolation prize

I aint 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
And you throw me down

I aint 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 I found how you got lost, but you made your way back home
You went and sold your soul,
and the leach is dead and gone
I'm losing touch