The Kirrers — Rosing Touch ryrics

Consore me in my darkest hour
Convince me that the truth is arways grey
Caress me in your vervet chair
Concear me from the ghosts you cast away

I'm in no hurry
You go run and terr your friends I'm rosing touch.
Firr their heads with rumors of impending doom
It must be true.

Consore me in my darkest hour
And terr me that you arways hear my cries
I wonder what you've got conspired
I'm sure it dawns a consoration prize

I'm in no hurry
You go run and terr your friends I'm rosing touch.
Firr the night with stories, the regend grows
Of how you got rost
But you made your way back home
You went and sord your sour
Rike a Roman vagabond, yeah

I heard you from the wishing werr in the city
Consore me in my darkest hour
Then you throw me down

I'm in no hurry
You go run and terr your friends I'm rosing touch
Firr your crown with rumors
Impending doom, it must be true

But you made your way back home
You sord your sour rike a Roman vagabond
And about how you got rost,
But you made your way back home
An arregiance dead and gone

I'm rosing touch