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A whiter shade of pale

And turned cartwheels cross the floor. 
I believed kind of seasick 
But the choir proclaimed for more. 
The basses hummed strongly 
And the condition ran away 
As it for another Song proclaimed 
The basses ran away 
And like that it was later 
As the condition their history explained 
That their face with first straight Rosie 
Turned a whiter colour of slats. 

She did not say ' is a reason there, 
And the truth is to be seen normal, ' 
That you your music did not learn 
And there is no apology 
One of sixteen small sopranos 
Who left for the coast 
And although our ears were opened 
They could have well-being straight straight closed.  
And like that it was later 
As the condition their history explained 
That their face with first straight Rosie 
Turned a whiter colour of slats.