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Whiter shade of pale

by Bonnie Tyler

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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 hummin´ harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray, so

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
As I wander through my playing cards
I could not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leavin´ for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might just as well have been closed
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