all the lonely people, where do they all come from? all the lonely people, where do they all belong?

the beatle's eleanor rigby has been playing on repeat in my head. i wake up in the morning, walk to school for my pricing exam and i'm singing, "all the lonely people, where do they all belong?" i'm walking around after my paper, waiting to pass henry back his book, i'm singing, " all the lonely people, where do they all belong?" i come home, watch the notebook, clean my car and take a nap. and in my sleep i'm singing, "all the lonely people..yadda yadda.." and then i'm on the way to church and i'm still singing it and so it goes. then after supper at a jap bar after a night of jazz at robert burns, we are about to walk to the car. but i hear a bassline which i can't resist and follow the music as though it has cast an invisible spell on me. a band all dressed in black is playing outside lemon room at the octagon in the crisp, cool, midnight air. the old fogeys here dressed in black leather jackets and jeans holding beer bottles and cigarettes in their hands are a world apart from the old fogeys at robert burns which make you feel like you've just entered a scene from the notebook plus (quite) a couple of years later. up till the next moment, the song is perfect but unrecognisable. i sit on a bench and listen as the lead sings the last few lines of the song which brought me there, "all the lonely people, where do they all belong?"