Lyrics

COLOURLESS MAN

I’m the colourless man
you see in the subway crowd
I’m the man whose name
you’ll never say out loud
I wake to dawn’s grey tombstone light
the faces I meet are a blur
each day like any other
but does it really matter

Cause I’m fine, I’m fine,
If you ask me I’m doing just great
The wife is good, the kids are swell
Our house the heaven we’ve made out of hell
So I’m proud to say
I’m the colourness man


I have no sense of self
I feel like an empty vessel
I have a shape I guess,
but there’s nothing inside
I contain your grief
but also contain your pleasures
I hope you never find
I have so little to offer

Cause I’m fine, I’m fine,
If you ask me I’m doing just great
The job is good, the prospects swell
My world is a heaven I’ve made out of hell
So I’m glad to say
I’m the colourless man

And I’m fine… and I’m fine… and I’m fine…

I’m the colourless man
who observes the trains go by
I’m the man whose face
won’t make you laugh or cry
I watch you more than you watch me
I record your every motion
I bet you have no idea, but
I designed this very station

And I’m fine, I’m fine,
If you ask me I’m doing just great
The wife is good, the kids are swell
Our house is a heaven we’ve made out of hell
So I’m proud to say
I’m the colourless man
I’m the colourless man

and don’t you feel sorry for me
we’re the ones you always see
through the ages
we’re the majority
and I’m fine
and I’m fine
I’m the colourless man
I’m the colourless man


This song was inspired by the Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami’s “The Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki And His Years of Pilgrimage." A key passage from the novel:

“Because I have no sense of self. I have no personality, no brilliant colour. I have nothing to offer. That’s always been my problem. I feel like an empty vessel. I have a shape, I guess, as a container, but there’s nothing inside. I just can’t see myself as the right person for her. I think that the more time passes, and the more she knows about me, the more disappointed Sarah will be, and the more she’ll choose to distance herself from me.”

This song could be described as a deliberate misreading of the novel, in that while Tsukuru is eternally single and yearning for love and connection, this narrator is - or at least pretends to be - a self-satisfied family man. But like Tsukuru, he is a subway station designer who spends much of his time watching crowds and recording their motions, feeling anonymous and both proud and critical of his lacklustre fitting in. Maybe he is Tsukuru, in some far-off future... — BC