I am one of the lonely people,
Call me Eleanor if you like,
I like to ride my bike,
But there’s nowhere to go,
I’ve been everywhere,
Now there’s nowhere to go.

Are you one of the lonely people,
Praying to a God who isn’t fair,
Is it madness up there?
Gathering his people,
Keeping up his faith,
With only a cross atop his steeple.

Is she one of the lonely people,
With infinite plains uncrossed,
With time on her hands ?
Writing letters to herself
Pretending they all love her,
Putting her dreams on the shelf?

Will we always be lonely people?