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Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church |
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Where a wedding has been, lives in a dream |
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Waits at the window, wearing the face |
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That she keeps in a jar by the door, who is it for? |
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All the lonely people, where do they all come from? |
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All the lonely people, where do they all belong? |
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Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon |
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That no one will hear, no one comes near |
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Look at him working, darning his socks in the night |
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When there's nobody there, what does he care? |
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All the lonely people, where do they all come from? |
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All the lonely people, where do they all belong? |
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Eleanor Rigby died in the church |
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And was buried along with her name, nobody came |
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Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands |
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As he walks from the grave, no one was saved |
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All the lonely people, where do they all come from? |
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All the lonely people, where do they all belong? |
