The Church - Lost My Touch lyrics

rate me

Streets of burnt-out shells, insurance jobs

A temporary spell in hell and it throbs

It throbs like hell in some divine comedy

It won't sell and that's a tragedy

But I know my way home I can get there alone

The day I need you they can feed me to the lions

They can stop trying to get it started

Its heart is gone, its shone for the last time

It's past time it's mean time held over in-between time

It's like Halloween time

I don't owe you anything

Now I'm out of power

Now I've lost my touch

Please don't touch anything

Every passing hour

Overcomes too much

I don't owe you anything

There's a weaker weaker in the other speaker

A weaker echo of my own voice

Reproduced mechanically and electronically

A symphony of frequencies delivering

A slithering sound a pound of flesh

Caught in the mesh of pressure

A special deluxe de-essed it you guessed it

I'm trembling (Untrammeled ?)

I don't owe you anything

Now I've lost my power

Now I'm out of touch

Please don't touch anything

Every passing hour

Overcomes too much

I don't owe you anything

Now I've lost my mind

Now I'm out of touch

Should you would you could you could

Could you look good back on the street

Your feet get cold you're too old you've been told

You should've sold your soul

It's not worth anything anything out here

Not worth the earth you're standing on

Earth mother earth hurt sweet mother earth

What are you worth?

I don't owe you anything

Now I'm out of power

Now I've lost my touch

Please don't touch anything

Every passing hour

All becomes too much

I don't owe you anything

Now I've lost my power

Now I'm out of touch

I don't owe you anything, ah

Please don't touch anything, ah

I don't owe you anything, ah

I don't owe you anything, ah ah

Please don't touch anything, ah ah

Then he said his name is Ray

He was a dominating, woman-hating misogynist S.O.B

1 2 3 that's how easy it's gonna be

Everything is complete

If you need to cheat

If you want to eat

Even the air, once free

You now pay a fee

You now pay a far if you want air

It's not really fair

Fair enough, it's tough stuff

It's tough to get enough and you laugh

You laugh but you can't get the staff

Hold onto the raft

It's my craft

It's finished, it's kaput

It's over, finito Benito

Dead Fred

Gone for a song like old Hong Kong

Gone for a song