Tom: Fm
Fm
Closer than close - you see yourself - a mirrored immage,
C# Fm
of what you wanted to be
F#
As each day goes by - a little more - you can't remember
C# Fm
what it was you wanted anyway
Fm
The fingers feel the lines - they prod the space - your ageing face
C# D# C# D#
The face that once was so beautiful - is still there but unrecognizable
F#
Private Hell, Private Hell
The man who you once loved - is blad 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, Private Hell
G# C# G# C#
Think of Emma - wonder what she's doing
G# C# G# C#
her husband Terry - and your grandchildren
A# C A# C
Think of Edward - who's still at college
A# C A# C
you send him letters - which he doesn't acknowledge
Fm
'Cause he don't care - they don't care
C# D#
'Cause they're all going through their own
Fm
Private Hell, Private Hell
The morning slips away - in a valium haze - and catalogues
a numerous cups of coffe
In the afternoon - the weekly food - is put in bags
you float off down the high street
The shops windows reflect - play a nameless host - to a closet ghost
a picture of your fantasy - a victim of your misery
Private Hell, Private Hell
Fm
Alone at 6 o'clock - you drop a cup - you see it smash
C#
inside you crack - you can't go on - but you sweep it up
D# Fm
Safe at last inside your - Private Hell
C# D# Fm
Sanity at last inside your - Private Hell
