Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.

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

Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better.

And in the endthe love you takeis equal tothe love you make

He's a real nowhere man,Sitting in his Nowhere Land,Making all his nowhere plansfor nobody.Doesn't have a point of view,Knows not where he's going to,Isn't he a bit like you and me?

And when at last I find you your song will fill the air.

But when you talk about destruction, don't you know that you can count me out.