Terça feira's mood...

Console me in my darkest hourConvince me that the truth is always greyCaress me in your velvet chairConceal me from the ghost you cast awayI'm in no hurry,you go runAnd tell your friendsI'm losing touchFill their heads with rumours of impending doomIt must be trueConsole me in my darkest hour And tell me that you'll always hear my criesI wonder what you got conspiredI'm sure it was the consolation prizeI'm in no hurry,you go runAnd tell your friendsI'm losing touchFill the night with stories,the legend growsOf how you got lostBut you made your way back homeYou sold your soul,like a Roman vagabondyeahI heard you found a wishing wellIn the cityConsole me in my darkest hour(in my darkest hour)And you throw me downI'm in no hurry,you go runAnd tell your friendsI'm losing touchFill your crown with rumoursImpending doom,it must be trueBut you made your way back homeYou sold your soul, like a Roman vagabondAnd all that now you got lost,but you made your way back homeYou went and sold your soul,an allegiance dead and goneI'm losing touch

The Killers - Losing Touch