Текст песни The Killers — 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'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 dons 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 roaming vagabond, yeah
I heard you found a 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 roaming 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