You can see the frustration in The Boss’s eyes when he first tries to open his mouth only to realize that it has been digitally glued shut by some sick patient prankster. His lyrical confession of self-doubt, anxiety and jealousy has turned into one of pure monotonous confusion. His painful crooning has been exchanged for a drawn out uncomfortably joke without a punch line. Not much happens. Then even less happens. Then something! Wait. No, my mistake. The camera zooms in a bit, but the scene stays static.
We can understand Bruce this way, his struggle is no longer personal and lonely, we share it with him. But our struggle is different. Our struggle is an awkward one, we get that way when no-one says anything, when we can’t avoid eye contact, even with a person who isn’t physically present. When we watch an uncomfortable situation on our TV we curl up, we put the sheets over our eyes and we can hardly watch. We take an unscheduled bathroom break even though we don’t need to. We are sympathetic creatures. The scene is zooming closer, soon we cant see his guitar anymore. Now he is a silent disembodied head bobbing up and down on the screen.
But why doesn’t he at least sing the chorus? He obviously wants to!
But no, Bruce is silently choking on his own words, swallowing them like a bitter pill as the outro fades him from of existence.