Whiter Shade Of Pale - Matt Belsante

We skipped

The light fandango

Turned cartwheels

Cross the floor

I was feeling

Kind of seasick

The crowd

Called out

For more

The room

Was humming harder

As the ceiling

Flew away

When we

Called outfor

Another drink

But the waiter

Brought a tray

And so it

Was later

As the miller

Told his tale

That her face

At first

Just ghostly

Turned a whiter

Shade of pale

You said

There is no reason

And the truth

Is plain to see

But I wander

Through

My playing cards

And would not

Let it be

I’m one of the

Dixteen virgins

Who are leaving

For the coast

And although

My eyes were open

They might just

As well been closed

A whiter

Shade of pale

Turned a whiter

Shade of pale

A whiter

Shade of pale