Starry, starry night.
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Paint your palette blue and gray,
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Look out on a summer's day,
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With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
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Shadows on the hills,
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Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
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Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
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In colors on the snowy linen land.
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Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
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And how you suffered for your sanity,
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How you tried to set them free.
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They would not listen, they did not know how.
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Perhaps they'll listen now.
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Starry, starry night.
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Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
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Swirling clouds in violet haze,
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Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
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Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
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Weathered faces lined in pain,
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Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
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Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
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How you suffered for your sanity,
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How you tried to set them free.
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They would not listen, they did not know how.
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Perhaps they'll listen now.
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For they could not love you,
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But still your love was true.
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And when no hope was left in sight
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On that starry, starry night,
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You took your life, as lovers often do.
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But I could have told you, Vincent,
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This world was never meant for one
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As beautiful as you.
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Starry, starry night.
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Portraits hung in empty halls,
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Frameless head on nameless walls,
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With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
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Like the strangers that you've met,
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The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
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The silver thorn of bloody rose,
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Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
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Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
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How you suffered for your sanity,
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How you tried to set them free.
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They would not listen, they're not listening still.
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Perhaps they never will...
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Talk~
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| 386FM |
