Текст песни Losing Touch - The Killers
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
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
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
ain't
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
from
the
wishing
well
in
the
city
Console
me
in
my
darkest
hour
Then
you
throw
me
down
I
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
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
You
went
and
sold
your
soul
An
allegiance
dead
and
gone
I'm
losing
touch
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