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& C1 p. F9 A3 R$ u$ i- RStarry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey, 9 C# _: c6 G" y2 q- n
Look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul, ! _1 U, C3 ^. b; D
Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffoodils,/ F, I* t# i* U- D" @- c& X4 X
Catch the breeze and the winter chillsm in colors on the snowy linen land.
; b% w3 |2 S. }0 vNow I understand what you tried to say to me,
# ^8 l1 |8 v: d( T) FHow you suffered for you sanity,
8 k9 I7 Q& t s- o$ Y* i! k+ y; [2 YHow you tried to set them free,
; ~5 c( H" O4 S% P3 w2 W: @# _They would not lister they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now. 0 k+ J$ B5 I& t4 F
Starry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
( z' ^" y/ Z7 Z" r/ S+ YSwirling clounds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue,
/ m. u; e4 C' h6 N! i' H9 G- bColors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain, - o" a& `# ^. y; r
Weathered face lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. : W* F$ r0 x* W( y
1 b! b3 P5 [7 K; TFor they could not love you, but still your love was true, * b$ p- W* e& \/ @
Adn when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night, ( R- C; ^ ~* O9 D; C$ q
You took your life as lovers ofter do,
7 y3 @# _% D- H6 B- i9 F0 R! D& MBut I could have told you, Vincent, ( Z A" U! S2 O/ d
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you. o G1 X; A4 \8 p, q
" [8 W. V, F9 q. \1 `8 K
Starry starry night, portraits hung in empty halls, % e2 \. I1 u: ^, r
Frmeless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget. 6 j+ b5 d' \1 H) n3 o' t$ F: c
Like the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes,
5 u0 \ }6 a" g) S( wThe silver thorn of bloody rose, lit crushed and broken on the virgin snow. ) T$ k! @9 R! p/ j0 l% |
, Q& ^) J' t) P! l0 Q, k# t, j A& i
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
% Q$ D! Z# p9 L4 EHow you suffered for you sanity,4 ~4 e% F) g% `) v, b( l% X4 ]
How you tried to set them free, " R; o7 J- s7 e$ N2 Y
They would not listen they're not listening still,
. {, ^ L/ ?; [; g! p! o) @: WPerhaps they never will. |
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