Say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating
And I'm alright
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Can't see the light
Keep it locked up inside
Don't talk about it
Talk about the weather

Can't see the light
Open up my head and let me out,
little baby
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time

I say my hell is the closet
I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating and I'm alright
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time

I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

I see you young and soft oh little baby
Little feet, little hands, little baby
One year of cryin' and the words creep up inside
Creep into your mind
So much to say
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

So much to say
Open up my head and let me out
Little baby

Coup de grace of a song. Just rings in my head whenever I play it on the comp. Has a feel to it that very few bands can fathom. And has a subtle hint that very few people can gather. It's my perception though. How long do we stand alone? Is there really anyone behind us? Or in front of us, guiding us? Or pretending to, just to condescend with a small smile and let us know that they're there? It's all too juxtaposed and lonesome really. And then we realise the effect that we hold on those very same people. Maybe they were justa figment of our own imagination. Probably they were. We're all alone. All of us. We find solace in an empty hand that offers grace not for the sake of it, but because they have to. Period