Eleanor rigby. Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been.
Lives in a dream. Waits by the window,wearig the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for.
Father Mckenzie writting the words to a sermon that no one will hear.
Looka at him.working.darning his socks in the night when there's no body there. No one comes near. All the lonely people.
I look at all the lonely peopple.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Eleanor rigby. Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been.
Lives in a dream. Waits by the window,wearig the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for.
Father Mckenzie writting the words to a sermon that no one will hear.
Looka at him.working.darning his socks in the night when there's no body there. No one comes near. All the lonely people.
I look at all the lonely peopple.
The beatles grabbed me @ the age of 12 and never let go
The lyrics stand alone as fantistic poetry.
Request permission to use this poem