Embala-me os dias...

Banda Procol Harum (1967).

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda 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 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 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 late...






"O sonhador, em seu devaneio, não consegue sonhar diante de um espelho que não seja profundo."

(Gaston Bachelard)