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

And the legions stand alone 

 

I'm losing touch