Behind Closed Doors

The Strypes

/ Behind Closed Doors /

It’s a national crisis
Your dependence on vices
I’m amazed at your resilience
To laugh at the other drunken millions
When the clothes you’ve worn to work today
Are speckled with sick and beaujolais
Hit with the hammer of hard home truths
There’s only one thing that’s left to do

Put your plans on the long finger
Leave your wife promise the kids you’ll see them
But they know that’s just feeble optimism
You’d like to think you’d have kept in touch
Some consideration for someone you love
But you were never very into altruism

Behind closed doors, decisions are made
Behind closed doors

Become disenchanted and get your own place
Maudlin in private the tears fall with grace
On damp sheets that smell of dual pack lenore
And the cigarette ash from the night before
A threadbare sofa out in the street
The crumblin’ bus station couldn’t be more bleak
An old man and his dog just sit and talk
You have to wonder who’s taking who for a walk

Put your plans on the long finger
Leave your wife promise the kids you’ll see them
But they know that’s just feeble optimism
You’d like to think you’d have kept in touch
Some consideration for someone you love
But you were never very into altruism

Behind closed doors, decisions are made
Behind closed doors, you never know what goes on

There’s no recourse to be taken here
The ignored phone calls have made it clear
They’re better off without you in every way
You pass in the street but there’s nothing to say
There comes a time when you have to decide
Do you put your family before your pride
You’d rather see them happy in their own way
Than miserable with you for another day

Behind closed doors, decisions are made
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors, decisions are made
Behind closed doors, you never know what goes on

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