• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Privately - Guided By Voices
• PRIVATE HELL - Iggy Pop
• Private Ale - Green Day
• PRIVATE HELL - Alice In Chains
• PRIVATE HELL - The Jam
• PRIVATE HELL - Manticora
• PRIVATE HELL - Jackyl
• PRIVATE HELL - Jam
• PRIVATE HELL - Misery Loves Co
• PRIVATE HELL - Hexen

In the midst of this effort
Courageous tongues are bitter
Don't blast them
Bring posters and broadcast
Not a public display
But a new secret
Come there to pretend
Bring your children
Allow them to watch to the end
Before most of us knew it
Contagious words have bitten
Don't use them
Don't post them for broadcast
Keep then private and away
Like an old weapon
Come here on command
Like good children
Allow us to watch 'til to the end
Cigarette lifter
The frozen violins
Solid movement

I have a private hell
Of excellent quality
I've dwelt there for years
Playing with my fears
It's tastefull, luxurious,
And full of sexuality
And though they are tears
I controll them with my gears
Well all in all,
I must tell you,
Well I must tell you,
I'm so proud of my private hell
Anger and greed brew
And then they stamped
Till I can transmute
Them into more loot
It's tastefull, luxurious,
And full of sexuality
And though they are tears
I controll them with my gears
Well all in all,
I must tell you,
Well I must tell you,
I'm so proud of my private hell
Well all in all,
I must tell you,
Well I must tell you,

I wonder down these streets all by myself
Think of my future now
I just don't know
I don't seem to care
I stop to notice that
I'm by your home
I wonder if you're sitting all alone
Or is your boyfriend there
Because I feel so right
Let my imagination go
Until you're in my sight
And through my veins temptation flows
Whoa hoa...
Out here...
So I sit down here on the hard concrete
Think of my future now
I just don't know
I don't seem to care
So I sit across the street from your home
I wonder if you're sitting all alone
Or is your boyfriend there
Because I feel so right
Let my imagination go
Until you're in my sight
And through my veins temptation flows
Whoa hoa...
Out here...
Because I feel so right
Let my imagination go
Until you're in my sight
And through my veins temptation flows
Whoa hoa...

Give away a love
And then remove another too
Painted words adorn the walls
Echoing untrue
I feel cold ... uh-huh
Promises abound
You rarely find it to begin
Maybe I'm afraid to let you
All the way in
I guess so ... uh-huh
I excuse myself,
I'm used to my little cell
I amuse myself,
In my very own private hell [x2]
[RIPPIN' ASS GUITAR SOLO]
Lately I'm beside myself
Pretending, unconcerned
Standing on a corner
Where I threw you on a turn
I'll move on ... uh-huh
Flowers on a cross remain
Mark an ending scene
Damn it all the blood you spill
Turn the grass more green
Life is short ... uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
I excuse myself,
I'm used to my little cell
I amuse myself,
In my very own private hell [x2]
I amuse myself,

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.

Standing up - I'm looking down
at the ground below
Can't change my situation
by execution
How can it be my life it means so much to me?
I'm doomed anyway - my friend can't you see?
There's no god to save me
From this private hell
No angel of mercy
Comes to my cell
How can it be my life it means so much to me?
I'm doomed anyway - my friend can't you see?
Standing up - I'm looking down
at the ground below
Can't change my situation
by execution
How can it be my life it means so much to me?

Look at me ain't got no money
Look at me ain't got no ride
Look at me I'm so together
But you ain't seen the other side
I'm living in my own private hell
From the looks of me you know it's hard to tell
That I'm living in my own private hell
And from the inside looking out you know it's just as well
Well, you tell me what's so funny
And I'll stop ha, ha, laughing at you
You think, you know just what's my problem
But you haven't got a clue
I'm living in my own private hell
From the looks of me you know it's hard to tell
That I'm living in my own private hell
And from the inside looking out you know it's just as well
You know it's just as well
I'm in my own private hell
Texas ain't so big when you're a wanted man
And the desert ain't so dry when you're soaking wet within
And the sky ain't so high when you're looking down on a cloud
No I ain't got nothing but I'm goddamned proud
I'm living in my own private hell
From the looks of me you know it's hard to tell
That I'm living in my own 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

I know we're going up
I know what brings me down
what brings me down
the look on johnny's face
tells me how I feel
just how I feel - how I feel
got to go away
no reason to stay
until you fuckers fall down
no longer wanna kill myself
suicide is cheap
the rest of the world can die
the rest of the world can die
see them all break down
see them all break down
see them all break down
voices around me so strong
words that drown the thought
hard to tell right from wrong
didn't know how to figure it out
but the look on johnny's face
I know it is for real
I'm living a lie
but so are you
your not the one who's locked in a zoo
could do without your good advice
so get the fuck out of
on my private hell
my private hell
my private hell
see them all break down
see them all break down
see them all break down
pull!
see them all break down
see them all break down
break down
gotta get away
no reason to stay
they all get their share on judgement day
watching them all fall down and die
see them all break down - see them all break down
see them all break down - break down
see them all break down - see them all break down
see them all break down - see them all break down
in my private hell - my private hell
in my private hell - my private hell
in my private hell - my private hell
in my private
in my private
in my private hell

It all seems to get stranger,
The more I live on,
Under the "dead hand of the past",
Where have all my days gone?
The hardest part of letting go,
Is not having to say goodbye,
It's enduring the years thereafter,
That become a lifetime.
In my own private hell:
To innocence; farewell...
Is Hedonism all that remains?
Collect all notions of mysticism,
And commit them to the flames,
It's all a joke like the morals you invoke,
And there are no rules in this game,
But I would rather this private hell,
Than the eternal realm of lies,
Abandon puerile thoughts you must,
Oh, it was all superfluous...
In my own private hell:
Although still veridical, if nothing else.
Staring deep in the void,
It has nothing to say.
So what more can one say,
To escape from the cliché?
We have all been betrayed by,
Our own naïveté,
In this epoch of indifference,
Purpose is washed away;
Countless moments now lost in time,