I look at all the boney people.
I look at all the boney people.

Ellanor Twigby
Picks up the rice in the church where her wedding has been;
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window,
Wearing a face that she keeps in a jar by the door.
Who is it for?
All the boney people, where do they all come from?
All the boney people, where do they all belong?

Jenny McCraigsie
Writing the words of a sermon that thick ones will fear;
Don't have a beer!.
Look at her schlocking,
Selling snake oil to lonely dysmorphic out there.
What does she care?
All the boney people, where do they all come from?
All the boney people, where do they all belong?

I look at all the boney people.
I look at all the boney people.

Ellanor Twigby
Died in the church and was buried alone with her name.
Nobody came.
Jenny McCraigsie
Counting her cash with her hands as she walks from her grave.
One less drone slave.
All the boney people, where do they all come from?
All the boney people, where do they all belong?