Ah, look at all the lonely people,

Ah, look at all the lonely people.

Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church

Where a 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?

Farther McCenzie, writing the words of 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.

Farther McCenzie, 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?

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?