The Busker and his Way

The rain had just stopped near Tampines MRT station. The floor was wet and the sky was dark. Crowds of apathetic commuters walked hastily past this busker seated in his foldable plastic chair, singing into mike and guitar in hand.

I was walking behind the sight-impaired man in his mid 40s when his song caught my attention. I halt to listen. It was 'My Way' by Frank Sinatra.

He was in his own little world, strumming the guitar to his own beat and tune, singing arguably just within range. He seemed totally oblivious to the pacy steps of the passer-bys. Unlike other flashy buskers in fanciful outfits and with kickass speakers, this man didn't seem to be performing to attract attention or for people to drop coins. He was disregardful of the external environment; he was just singing to himself.

Even though that during that 2 minutes only one stopped to show his appreciation towards his singing, the performer didn't care much - he made sure he completed every verse and every chorus of the song. Even though he wasn't very much a good singer or guitarist, even though he was not loud or good enough to attract passer-bys to stop to watch, he made sure he ended the song on the strum of the last note. With respected professionalism and dignity he entertained his audience.

___

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full.
I've traveled each and ev'ry highway;
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried.
I've had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
"No, oh no not me,
I did it my way".

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!