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Starry, starry night, paint your palette 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 lien 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 flower's that brightly blaze. Swirling clouds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of China blue, colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain. Weathered faces lined in pain, are soothed beneath the artists' 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 is true. And when no hope was left in sight 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 hung in empty halls, framless heads on nameless walls, with eyes that watch the world and can't forget. Like the strangers that you've met The ragged man 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're not listening still. Perhaps they never will. |
