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Eleanor Rigby
Ah, look at all the lonely peopleAh, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor RigbyPicks up the rice in the church where a wedding has beenLives in a dreamWaits at the windowWearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the doorWho is it for?
All the lonely peopleWhere do they all come from?All the lonely peopleWhere do they all belong?
Father McKenzieWriting the words of a sermon that no one will hearNo one comes nearLook at him workingDarning his socks in the night when there’s nobody thereWhat does he care?
All the lonely peopleWhere do they all come from?All the lonely peopleWhere do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely peopleAh, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor RigbyDied in the church and was buried along with her nameNobody cameFather McKenzieWiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the graveNo one was saved
All the lonely people (ah, look at all the lonely people)Where do they all come from?All the lonely people (ah, look at all the lonely people)Where do they all belong?