Penny Lane

On Penny Lane, my barber was showing me some photographs: one for each head he's had the pleasure to have known. Every time he shows me, all the people that come and go, stop and sey "Hello!" to me. As I continue around the corner, I see a banker with a motorcar. The funny part of it was the little children laughing at him behind his back. However, the banker never wore a mac in that pouring rain. Very Strange. Ever since that day, Penny Lane has been in my ear and my eye; all while under the blue suburban skies. So I sat, and meanwhile back in Penny Lane there was a fireman. And in his pocket, a portrait of the queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean. It's a clean machine.

And again, Penny Lane was in my  ear, my eyes, along with four of fish and finger pies. In Summer meanwhile back behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout, the pretty nurse was selling poppies from a tray. Although she acted as if she were in a play, she was anyway.

And in Penny Lane my barber shaved another customer, who saw the banker sitting waiting for a trim. But then, I recalled the fireman rushing in from the pouring rain. Very strange. So I sit down again, with Penny Lane singing in my ears and my eyes. All while sitting underneath the blue suburban skies. Yes, Penny Lane was indeed in my ears and eyes, beneath the blue suburban skies. Penny Lane.