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'm 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'm 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'm 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 and sold your soul
And the legions stand alone
I'm losing touch