PRIVATE HELL

(Paul Weller)

Closer than closeyou see yourself -
A mirrored imageof what you wanted to be.
As each day goes bya little more
You can't rememberwhat it was you wanted anyway.

The fingers feel the linesthey prod the space -
Your ageing facethe face that once was so beautiful,
is still there but unrecognizable
Private Hell.

The man who you once lovedis bald and fat -
And seldom inworking late as usual.
Your interest has wanedyou feel the strain -
The bed springs snapon the occasions he lies upon you -
close your eyes and think of nothing but -
Private Hell.

Think of Emmawonder what she's doing -
Her husband Terryand your grandchildren.
Think of Edwardwho's still at college -
You send him letterswhich he doesn't acknowledge.
'Cause he don't care,
They don't care.
'Cause they're all going through their ownPrivate Hell.

The morning slips awayin a valium haze,
And cataloguesand numerous cups of coffee.
In the afternoonthe weekly food,
Is put in bagsas you float off down the high street

The shop windows reflectplay a nameless host,
To a closet ghosta picture of your fantasy -
A victim of your miseryand Private Hell

Alone at 6 o'clockyou drop a cup -
You see it smashinside you crack -
You can't go onbut you sweep it up -

Safe at last inside your Private Hell.
Sanity at last inside your Private Hell.