Closer than close - you see yourself -
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A mirrored image - of what you wanted to be.
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As each day goes by - a little more -
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You can't remember - what it was you wanted anyway.
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The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space -
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Your ageing face - the face that once was so beautiful,
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is still there but unrecognizable -
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Private Hell.
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The man who you once loved - is bald and fat -
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And seldom in - working late as usual.
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Your interest has waned - you feel the strain -
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The bed springs snap - on the occasions he lies upon you -
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close your eyes and think of nothing but -
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Private Hell.
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Think of Emma - wonder what she's doing -
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Her husband Terry - and your grandchildren.
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Think of Edward - who's still at college -
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You send him letters - which he doesn't acknowledge.
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'Cause he don't care,
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They don't care.
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'Cause they're all going through their own - Private Hell.
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The morning slips away - in a valium haze,
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And catalogues - and numerous cups of coffee.
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In the afternoon - the weekly food,
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Is put in bags - as you float off down the high street
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The shop windows reflect - play a nameless host,
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To a closet ghost - a picture of your fantasy -
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A victim of your misery - and Private Hell
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Alone at 6 o'clock - you drop a cup -
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You see it smash - inside you crack -
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You can't go on - but you sweep it up -
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Safe at last inside your Private Hell.
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Sanity at last inside your Private Hell.
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-----------------
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PRIVATE HELL
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The Jam |