Vincent

Vincent 

Don McLean

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 daffodils 

Catch the breeze and 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 flowers that brightly blaze, 

Swirling clouds in violet haze reflecting 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, 

Frame-less 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 

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 listening still, perhaps they never will 

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