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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 streetThe 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.

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