Eleanor Rigby (Live)

Ah, look at all the lonely people Ah, look at all the lonely people Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice In the church where her wedding has been, Lives in a dream. Waits at the window, Wearing the face that she keeps In a jar by the door, Who is it for? All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong? Father Mackenzie, writing the words to a sermon That no one will hear, No one comes near. Look at him working, Darning his socks In the night when there's nobody there What does he care? All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong? Ah, look at all the lonely people Ah, look at all the lonely people Eleanor Rigby died in the church And was buried along with her name Nobody came. Father Mackenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands As he walks from the grave No one was saved. All the lonely people, where do they all come from? (Ah, look at all the lonely people) All the lonely people, where do they all belong? (Ah, look at all the lonely people)