Vincent

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 linen land.

And 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 flo'rs 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 artist's

loving hand.

And 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 could have told you

Vincent

this world was never

meant for one

as beautiful as you.

Starry

starry night

portraits hung in empty halls

frameless heads on nameless walls

with eyes

that watch the world and can't forget.

Like the stranger that you've met

the ragged men in ragged clothes

the silver thorn of bloddy rose

lie crushed and broken

on the virgin snow.

And 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

list'ning still

perhaps they never will.