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What Is A Life? Lyrics
I’ve lived in this town for 13 years, I’ve been around.
You see that window in that tower? That was mine.
Under that fluorescent light I made cold calls through the night to places deep in suburbs I will never go.
And then in Chinatown I’d get something and hang around. How does that busker know each day from the rest?
See that man who just brushed past me? Well I know him, but don’t ask me about him. I wonder, is he still with his wife?
What is a life?
The ferries pull up in the evening warmth. I used to give out papers here as they rushed on their way home. The streets are full of plaques. Just where that park is used to be a den of sailors, Jesus Christ!
What is a life?
Of all the jobs I’ve had, I can’t say they’ve turned out bad,
Its just funny to think that that was me. A waiter on his break, he smokes a cigarette and takes a long look at a repaired paring knife.
You see that window in that tower? That was mine.
Under that fluorescent light I made cold calls through the night to places deep in suburbs I will never go.
And then in Chinatown I’d get something and hang around. How does that busker know each day from the rest?
See that man who just brushed past me? Well I know him, but don’t ask me about him. I wonder, is he still with his wife?
What is a life?
The ferries pull up in the evening warmth. I used to give out papers here as they rushed on their way home. The streets are full of plaques. Just where that park is used to be a den of sailors, Jesus Christ!
What is a life?
Of all the jobs I’ve had, I can’t say they’ve turned out bad,
Its just funny to think that that was me. A waiter on his break, he smokes a cigarette and takes a long look at a repaired paring knife.
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I love this song.I relate to it a lot. In my opinion, it talks about this bitter feeling I'm sure everyone has had every now and then, when life strikes you as pointless and futile. The window that used to be mine, the man who might still be with his wife, ferries pulling up, the park where a den used to be... what's the point? It reminds me of Sartre's "Nausea", particularly a scene where the main character is in the park and starts looking at things, the bench, the trees, the stones... and realizes that there is no reason for them to be there and, consequently, no reason for him to be in the world either. So, what is a life?