Today, I will be decoding one of Hozier’s more famous songs: Work Song. The first time I listened to Work Song, it felt like a straightforward love song about deep devotion — a promise to return to a loved one even beyond death. A song that people often request to be played at weddings to be quirky. But as I dug deeper, a more complex story emerged, one that reflects existential ideas.
Let’s start with the lyrics.
Boys, workin’ on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
I just think about my baby
I’m so full of love I could barely eat
Here, “workin’ on empty” seems to reflect more than just physical exhaustion from being hungry. It is a symbol of existential burnout. In interviews, Hozier has said the song touches on “being disconnected from yourself, your partner, your purpose… because of the grind.” The narrator’s life is devoid of fulfillment — until he thinks about his “baby.” That’s when he becomes “so full of love, [that he] could barely eat.”
The second time I listened, I realized that the “baby” may not be a literal partner: it could be a symbol for a search for meaning in life, a desperate attempt to fill the void. The search provides a direction, a sensation of meaning in his life. This mirrors existentialist ideas: when faced with a meaningless world, humans often invent coping strategies to escape freedom and anxiety, which is something Sartre called “bad faith.”
In addition, the direct contrast of “workin’ on empty” and “being so full of love” to the point where the narrator could “barely eat” intrigued me. In my opinion, the initial “workin’ on empty” is feeling hungry for freedom— whether that is not wanting to work or staying in a relationship. However, as the narrator thinks about life, he is fearful of radical freedom or rather the act of eating.
I was three days on a drunken sin
I woke with her walls around me
Nothin’ in her room but an empty crib
The narrator admits to being “three days on a drunken sin” and waking “with her walls around me, nothing in her room but an empty crib.”The symbol of a “crib” also hints on how the speaker is overly emotionally and mentally dependent on the search for meaning in life, to the point that the search becomes something to hold onto when the world feels empty. These lines evoke confining, restrictive imagery but is somehow comforting to the speaker.
Death as Escape, Not End
The chorus repeats a haunting refrain:
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I’ll crawl home to her.”
This is the part people discuss on Tiktok the most. And I see why because this could totally be romantic; it seems to be a love confession that isn’t confined to this lifetime. But it’s also eerie when looked at through the lens of existentialism. Even death doesn’t liberate the speaker— he’s still bound to this presence, still “crawling home” to the search. For Camus, death is the “absurd” conclusion to our struggle for meaning. But here, death isn’t an end, but rather an opportunity to reunite with the addiction.
This suggests complete loss of autonomy: the speaker is completely enslaved by his craving for meaning in life, to the point where even the grave can’t separate him from it. It’s a powerful metaphor for potential addiction, but also for how humans can become imprisoned by the false meanings we create — whether that’s love, work, faith, or self-destruction.
Now that we have discussed the lyrics, we will discuss more about the concept of existentialism.
Existentialism
Philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Søren Kierkegaard offer insight into this tension. Sartre’s concept of “bad faith” explains how people deny their freedom by clinging to external things — identities, roles, addictions, or relationships — to avoid confronting the emptiness of existence. The narrator’s repeated vow to “crawl home to her” suggests surrender to a force that shapes his identity but also limits his freedom.
Kierkegaard’s idea of the “sickness unto death” — a despair rooted in alienation from oneself — resonates here. The narrator is disconnected from his own essence, trapped in a cycle of yearning and return. The “baby” (meaning, purpose, or even the act of “workin’ on empty”) becomes both a prison and an anchor — a way to survive amid disconnection but also a source of suffering.
Conclusion
In interviews, Hozier has described Work Song as exploring “burnout, disconnection, and survival.” In this light, the “baby” can also represent the very thing that both drains and sustains us — whether it’s work, love, or a personal purpose. This framing challenges us to see the struggle not as mere personal failure but as a profound response to existential despair and societal neglect. The “work” in “Work Song” becomes both the physical labor of daily survival and the emotional, spiritual labor of seeking meaning in an often indifferent world.
Hozier Decoded 