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 ageing 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