window seat, italian beat,
salt and sweet, tapping our feet 'cross the road
from the club where we once dropped off stella
felt old, asked for sardines on toast
said we drove 'cross the city to get it here
he looks at us like we're crazy, says
we don't have that on the menu
what can I get you instead
you say I just want to know what the meaning of life is
and what is the point of not being dead

you shouldn't tell people when you're existential
oh, it only leaves them depressed
nobody [nobody] likes to think about nothingness

none of my clothes look good, what is the point of it
I love you because you are always direct
and you never stop talking, you're just like an artist
oh, I'm not an artist! you say like it's fact
not what is the point, but what is the point of it?
why am I here and what can I do?
I hope that there are still errands in heaven
I just want a job to do

you shouldn't tell people when you're existential
oh, it only leaves them depressed
nobody [nobody] likes to think about nothingness

brunswick st, radio beat, autumn heat
we order coffee even though we shouldn't
just want to feel like we're livin' or something
like something out here is important