No Eleanor Rigby.

Loneliness, stop courting me
I am no Eleanor Rigby.
I will immerse myself in people
Although I don’t which city he was born in
Or why she walks with a limp
I will smile at random strangers
And wave at school kids passing by in a bus
And if they snicker over the poor old lady waving to them
I will know nothing about it.

Loneliness, begone, get away
I will not let my nostalgic past haunt my dreams
Or let me gasp for breath or beg for strength
Cities will change and friends will betray
And yet I am no drowning man clutching at blades of grass.

Loneliness, you do not exist
And if you do not exist, then you must not be true.
Who wants to hear my sermon? Who wants to weep over pain?
I am taking a fistful of the rice in Church
And flinging it back into the Earth.

Loneliness, stop courting me.