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1 M5 \# {7 S9 T/ z9 ^( S) mStarry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey,
9 T, _9 [/ Z% q* U; F7 P6 R5 hLook out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul, 1 ?. w* c1 X* |# |$ X
Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffoodils,; [% Y8 p# k7 |# D# w/ P9 u9 j
Catch the breeze and the winter chillsm in colors on the snowy linen land.
6 p3 N% H1 E; h. I9 _Now I understand what you tried to say to me,0 E$ G' h! ~, H: t7 a
How you suffered for you sanity, / H% ^* [. T+ o4 G% L
How you tried to set them free,
4 `# ]; @$ U4 V7 m1 r! bThey would not lister they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now. 9 a5 y# b; B* M5 o
Starry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, 7 v! Q6 C5 L3 X: j
Swirling clounds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue,
, v' K- K8 Y; c9 FColors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain, ; l- K* N4 S R( L" W& w0 T
Weathered face lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. % E2 A/ [9 k/ w8 j( M! z
& X# @! ?2 Y ^, f% aFor they could not love you, but still your love was true,
y. A+ Q7 E- s; ~5 qAdn when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night, , \6 j9 E. A3 ]6 w& D# Q+ l. k$ b
You took your life as lovers ofter do,
( S2 k, n% O4 l9 a4 |$ u, {But I could have told you, Vincent, 7 u8 m; l% e# y' [
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.
* K3 p' l5 @: ]( T2 w+ n: x _ p& z% V9 A( R
Starry starry night, portraits hung in empty halls,
/ @* x3 s+ h Q* v' B3 IFrmeless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
* F- I7 T3 }2 @9 \% ^Like the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes, 1 }/ l0 f3 E6 w
The silver thorn of bloody rose, lit crushed and broken on the virgin snow. 2 j" k! B5 k/ V
/ {7 }" Q2 H: i' eNow I think I know what you tried to say to me,
2 q! b1 U" [ \; z& u S d$ i, BHow you suffered for you sanity,
$ Y; F- L1 a' ^4 Q( RHow you tried to set them free,
% r& x1 _5 k+ J8 IThey would not listen they're not listening still,
% ^! H, Q( E/ m6 f/ I' w: B- FPerhaps they never will. |
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