Starry, starry night,
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my sowl.
Shadow's on the hills, sketch the trees and daffodils.
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colours on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me.
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They will not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.
Starry, starry night,
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect Vincent's eye of China blue.
Colours?changing hue, morning fields of amber grain.
Weathered face lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true,
And when no hope was left inside on that starry, starry night,
You took your life as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night,
Portraits hang in empty halls,
Frameless heads on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you're met,
The ragged men in ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they'ree not listening still
Perhaps they never will.
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