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The Life and Times of Eleanor Rigby

Eleanor Rigby, she was born she was raised,

A life of tea and waiting to be saved,

Between the pot and the sink,

She was one who never wanted any praise.

Am I the only one?

Am I the only one?

Of course not,

Well, this isn’t any fun.

Summer, autumn, winter, spring,

She was never one to have a fling,

Always alone, never to complain,

Just sitting by, waiting for the phone to ring.

Am I the only one?

Am I the only one?

Of course not,

Well, this isn’t any fun.

Years seem to pass her by,

Mr Perfect, he was never the right guy,

But she never gave up hope,

Eleanor could feel it, her time was coming nigh.

Am I the only one?

Am I the only one?

Of course not,

Well, this isn’t any fun.

A life most basic from start to middle to end,

Hoping that something would break this trend,

Endless nights waiting,

Could she not even have a friend?

Then one day, for all her prayers,

She was found at the end of the stairs,

With not so much of a smile,

But in some far off land, they were walking off as pairs,

Eleanor Rigby had found a friend.

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