|
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. |
|
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. |
