Starry Starry Night

Starry, starry night.
Paint your pallete blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors 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 would 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 in Vincent's eyes of china blue.

Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand 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 did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.

And when no hope was left in sight,
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.

But I coould have to tell you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one,
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.

Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.

Like the strangers you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Like 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're notlistening still.
Perhaps they never will...
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Vincent (Starry Starry Night) © Don McLean

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