Vārdi: Jam. Private Hell.

Closer than close you see yourself
A mirrored image of what you wanted to be
As each day goes by a little more
You can't remember what it was you wanted anyway

The fingers feel the lines they prod the space
Your aging face the face that once was so beautiful
Is still there but unrecognizable, private hell

The man who you once loved is bald and fat
And seldom in working late as usual
Your interest has waned you feel the strain
The bed springs snap on the occasions he lies upon you
Close your eyes and think of nothing but private hell

Think of Emma wonder what she's doing
Her husband Terry and your grandchildren
Think of Edward who's still at college
You send him letters which he doesn't acknowledge
'Cause he don't care, they don't care
'Cause they're all going through their own private hell

The morning slips away in a Valium haze
And catalogues and numerous cups of coffee
In the afternoon the weekly food
Is put in bags as you float off down the high street

The shop windows reflect play a nameless host
To a closet ghost a picture of your fantasy
A victim of your misery and Private hell

Alone at 6 o'clock you drop a cup
You see it smash inside you crack
You can't go on but you sweep it up

Safe at last inside your private hell
Sanity at last inside your private hell