Thursday, March 8, 2007

The Jam - Gold

Disc: 1
1. In The City
2. Away From The Numbers
3. The Modern World
4. David Watts
5. Down In The Tube Station At Midnight
6. It's Too Bad
7. To Be Someone (Didn't We Have A Nice Time)
8. Mr. Clean
9. English Rose
10. The Butterfly Collector
11. The Eton Rifles
12. Private Hell
13. Thick As Thieves
14. Smithers-Jones
15. Saturday's Kids
16. Going Underground
17. Start!
18. Liza Radley
19. Pretty Green
20. Boy About Town
21. That's Entertainment
22. Tales From The Riverbank
23. Town Called Malice
24. Ghosts
25. Carnation
26. Beat Surrender

Disc: 2
1. The Dreams Of Children
2. News Of The World
3. Strange Town
4. When You're Young
5. Funeral Pyre
6. Absolute Beginners
7. Move On Up
8. Shopping
9. Pop Art Poem
10. A Solid Bond In Your Heart
11. No One In The World
12. And Your Bird Can Sing
13. Burning Sky
14. Disguises
15. Get Yourself Together
16. The Great Depression
17. Stoned Out Of My Mind
18. Pity Poor Alfie / Fever
19. But I'm Different Now
20. I Got You (I Feel Good)
21. Hey Mister
22. We've Only Started
23. So Sad About Us

Video: Private Hell


Private Hell (lyrics)

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.

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