Vicent

Starry starry night, paint your palette blue and gray,
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 fields 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 inside 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 strangers that you've met, the ragged men 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 did not listen, they're not listening still, perhaps they never will