Текст (слова) песни: jam - Private Hell

Private Hell - Paul Weller
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 aging 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.
SATURDAYS KIDS - Paul Weller
Saturdays boys live life with insults,
Drink lots of beer and wait for half time results,
Afternoon tea in the lite-a-bite - chat up the girls - they dig it!
Saturdays girls work in Tesco`s and Woolworths,
Wear cheap perfume `cause its all they can afford,
Go to discos - they drink Babycham - talk to Jan - in bingo accents.
Saturdays kids play one arm bandits,
they never win but that`s not the point is it?
Dip in silver paper when their pints go flat,
How about that - far out!
Their mums and dads smoke Capstan non filters,
Wallpaper lives `cause they all die of cancer,
What goes on - what goes wrong.
Save up their money for a holiday,
To Selsey Bill or Bracklesham Bay,
Think about the future - when they`ll settle down,
Marry the girl next door - with one on the way.
These are the real creatures that time has forgot,
Not given a thought - its the system -
Hate the system - what`s the system?
Saturdays kids live in council houses,
Wear v-necked shirts and baggy trousers,
Drive Cortinas - fur trimmed dash boards,
Stains on the seats - in the back, of course!
THE ETON RIFLES - Paul Weller
Sup up your beer and collect your fags,
There`s a row going on down near Slough,
Get out your mat and pray to the West,
I`ll get out mine and pray for myself.
Thought you were smart when you took them on,
But you didn`t take a peep in their artillery room,
All that rugby puts hairs on your chest,
What chance have you got against a tie and a crest.
Hello-Hurray - what a nice day - for the Eton Rifles
Hello-Hurray - I hope rain stops play - with the Eton Rifles.
Thought you were clever when you lit the fuse,
Tore down the House of Commons in your brand new shoes,
Composed a revolutionary symphony,
Then went to bed with a charming young thing.
Hello-Hurray - cheers then mate - its the Eton Rifles
Hello-Hurray - an extremist scrape - with the Eton Rifles.
What a catalyst you turned out to be,
Loaded the guns then you run on home for your tea.
Left me standing - like a guilty schoolboy.
We came out of it naturally the worst,
Beaten and bloody and I was sick down my shirt,
We were no match for their untamed wit,
Though some of the lads said they`ll be back next week.
Hello-Hurray - there`s a price to pay - to the Eton Rifles
Hello-Hurray - I`d prefer the plague - to the Eton Rifles (repeat)
PRECIOUS - Paul Weller
Your precious love - that means so much
will it ever stop - or will I just lose touch
What I want to say - but my words just fail
Is that I need it so - I can`t help myself
Like a hungry child - I just help myself
And when I`m full up - I go out to play
But I don`t mean to bleed you dry
Or take you over for the rest of your life
It`s just that I need something solid in mine
Lonely as the moors on a winter`s morning
Quiet as the sea on a cool calm night
In your tranquil shadow - I try and follow
I hear your distant show clicks
To the midnight beat -
I feel trapped in sorrow
In this imagery
But that`s how I am and why I need you so

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Меню » Главная » Музыка » Правила » В избранное	Музыка RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Текст (слова) песни: jam - Private Hell Private Hell - Paul Weller 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 aging 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. SATURDAYS KIDS - Paul Weller Saturdays boys live life with insults, Drink lots of beer and wait for half time results, Afternoon tea in the lite-a-bite - chat up the girls - they dig it! Saturdays girls work in Tesco`s and Woolworths, Wear cheap perfume `cause its all they can afford, Go to discos - they drink Babycham - talk to Jan - in bingo accents. Saturdays kids play one arm bandits, they never win but that`s not the point is it? Dip in silver paper when their pints go flat, How about that - far out! Their mums and dads smoke Capstan non filters, Wallpaper lives `cause they all die of cancer, What goes on - what goes wrong. Save up their money for a holiday, To Selsey Bill or Bracklesham Bay, Think about the future - when they`ll settle down, Marry the girl next door - with one on the way. These are the real creatures that time has forgot, Not given a thought - its the system - Hate the system - what`s the system? Saturdays kids live in council houses, Wear v-necked shirts and baggy trousers, Drive Cortinas - fur trimmed dash boards, Stains on the seats - in the back, of course! THE ETON RIFLES - Paul Weller Sup up your beer and collect your fags, There`s a row going on down near Slough, Get out your mat and pray to the West, I`ll get out mine and pray for myself. Thought you were smart when you took them on, But you didn`t take a peep in their artillery room, All that rugby puts hairs on your chest, What chance have you got against a tie and a crest. Hello-Hurray - what a nice day - for the Eton Rifles Hello-Hurray - I hope rain stops play - with the Eton Rifles. Thought you were clever when you lit the fuse, Tore down the House of Commons in your brand new shoes, Composed a revolutionary symphony, Then went to bed with a charming young thing. Hello-Hurray - cheers then mate - its the Eton Rifles Hello-Hurray - an extremist scrape - with the Eton Rifles. What a catalyst you turned out to be, Loaded the guns then you run on home for your tea. Left me standing - like a guilty schoolboy. We came out of it naturally the worst, Beaten and bloody and I was sick down my shirt, We were no match for their untamed wit, Though some of the lads said they`ll be back next week. Hello-Hurray - there`s a price to pay - to the Eton Rifles Hello-Hurray - I`d prefer the plague - to the Eton Rifles (repeat) PRECIOUS - Paul Weller Your precious love - that means so much will it ever stop - or will I just lose touch What I want to say - but my words just fail Is that I need it so - I can`t help myself Like a hungry child - I just help myself And when I`m full up - I go out to play But I don`t mean to bleed you dry Or take you over for the rest of your life It`s just that I need something solid in mine Lonely as the moors on a winter`s morning Quiet as the sea on a cool calm night In your tranquil shadow - I try and follow I hear your distant show clicks To the midnight beat - I feel trapped in sorrow In this imagery But that`s how I am and why I need you so Нравится песня? 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