Cover di A Whiter Shade of Pale

A Whiter Shade of Pale
Singolo - 1967 - Debaser id 831841

di Procol Harum

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 out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said there is no reason
And the truth is plain to see
But I wandered through my playing cards
Would not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might just as well've been closed

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
Il tuo voto:
'All hands on deck, we've run afloat!' I heard the captain cry
'Explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the Horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive

We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all

We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many Junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
Il tuo voto:
Your multilingual business friend
has packed her bags and fled
Leaving only ash-filled ashtrays
and the lipsticked unmade bed
The mirror on reflection
has climbed back upon the wall
for the floor she found descended
and the ceiling was too tall

Your trouser cuffs are dirty
and your shoes are laced up wrong
you'd better take off your homburg
'cos your overcoat is too long

The town clock in the market square
stands waiting for the hour
when its hands they both turn backwards
and on meeting will devour
both themselves and also any fool
who dares to tell the time
And the sun and moon will shatter
and the signposts cease to sign
Il tuo voto:
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