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Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraEleanor Rigby
MaisAh, look at all the lonely peopleAh, look at all the lonely peopleEleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has beenLives in a dreamWaits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the doorWho is it for?All the lonely people, where do they all come from?All the lonely people, where do they all belong?Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hearNo one comes nearLook at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody thereWhat 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 peopleAh, look at all the lonely peopleEleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her nameNobody cameFather McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the graveNo one was savedAll the lonely people, where do they all come from?All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
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