[Intro]
E     B     F#    G#m
E     B     F#    F#
G#m   G#m   C#    C#
G#m   G#m   C#    C#
[Strophe]
G#m                G#m           C#                     C#              G#m 
Console me in my darkest hour,   convince me that the truth is always grey. 
                  G#m           C#                    C#               E 
Caress me in your velvet chair,   conceal me from the ghost you cast away.
[Refrain]
              B             F#                G#m         (F#)     E 
I ain't in no hurry, you go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch. 
                      B                    F#   F#           G#m 
Fill their heads with rumours of impending doom - it must be true.
[Instrumentale]
G#m   C#    C#
[Strophe]
G#m                              C#                     C#             G#m 
  Console me in my darkest hour,   and tell me that you always hear my cries. 
                  G#m            C#                    C#          E 
I wonder what you got conspired,   I'm sure it dawns a consolation prize.
[Refrain]
              B             F#                G#m         (F#)     E 
I ain't in no hurry, you go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch. 
                    B                   F#     F#7 
Fill the night with stories, the legend grows, 
               B     (F#)        C#m       (G#m)         E              E 
of how you got lost,     but you made your way back home. 
              B     (F#)       C#m     (G#m)     E                F# 
You sold your soul,     like a roaming vagabond,   yeah!
[Pont]
G#m                   G#m           G#m          G#m 
I heard you found a wishing well,    in the city. 
G#m                G#m                 G#m           G#m                 E 
Console me in my darkest hour (in my darkest hour)    and you throw me down.
[Refrain]
              B             F#                G#m         (F#)     E 
I ain't in no hurry, you go run and tell your friends I'm losing touch. 
                     B        F#    F#7 
Fill your crown with rumours. 
          E    B    F#           G#m 
Impending doom -      it must be true. 
E     B     F#    F# 
  
B   (F#)        C#m       (G#m)        E              E 
        But you made your way back home. 
              B     (F#)       C#m     (G#m)     E              E 
You sold your soul,     like a roaming vagabond. 
                      B     (F#)        C#m       (G#m)        E              E 
And about how you got lost,     but you made your way back home. 
                       B     (F#)      C#m     (G#m)        E              E 
You went and sold your soul,     an allegiance dead and gone.
[Outro]
           B     (F#)     C#m   (G#m)    E              E  
(I'm losing touch)  
          (B     (F#)     C#m   (G#m)    E              E) x3 
		   B