The Killers Live from The Royal Albert Hall - 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 ain' in no hurry, you go on 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 got conspired I'm sure it was the consolation prize I ain' in no hurry, you go on 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 roamin' 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 ain' in no hurry, you go on And tell your friends I'm losing touch Fill your crowd with rumours Impending doom, it must be true But you made your way back home You sold your soul, like a roamin' 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