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