I have always been fascinated by Procol Harum’s “A Whiter Shade of Pale“. It is a song that takes me into a magical, dreamlike world where the atmosphere is slightly askew. In this world, a man and woman dance as the crowd cheers them on. When they are alone, he whispers something into her ear, and she suddenly leaves. What did he say? Was it his view of her future with him? Was it something she knew she must get away from? Whatever it was, it turned her cold as the blood drained from her face and made her run. After she leaves, he sits despondent until another woman enters his world. Unfortunately for him, the story repeats itself.
We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
But 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 turned ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale
She said there is no reason
And the truth is plain to see
That I wander through my playing cards
And 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 been closed
And so it was later
As the miller told his tale
That her face at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale
SBI: A Thinning Crowd 