'Cause he don't care, they don't care
And seldom in working late as usual
Alone at 6 o'clock you drop a cup
Her husband Terry and your grandchildren
Is put in bags as you float off down the high street
To a closet ghost a picture of your fantasy
The fingers feel the lines they prod the space
Safe at last inside your private hell
Think of Emma wonder what she's doing
In the afternoon the weekly food
Is still there but unrecognizable, private hell
As each day goes by a little more
You send him letters which he doesn't acknowledge
You can't remember what it was you wanted anyway
The bed springs snap on the occasions he lies upon you
You can't go on but you sweep it up
Think of Edward who's still at college
Your aging face the face that once was so beautiful
You see it smash inside you crack
Close your eyes and think of nothing but private hell
The man who you once loved is bald and fat
And catalogues and numerous cups of coffee
The morning slips away in a Valium haze
'Cause they're all going through their own private hell
The shop windows reflect play a nameless host
Your interest has waned you feel the strain
A victim of your misery and Private hell
