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4 W; v% P. z+ y9 [& v) e: g9 aStarry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey, 0 ^- N+ P' U* c0 I2 q, e- s6 ~
Look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul,
$ R- o9 U0 D/ s7 UShadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffoodils,
0 A8 W( ?5 z1 Z) u9 VCatch the breeze and the winter chillsm in colors on the snowy linen land. ( P6 M' c. y2 q
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
: N2 F0 z1 x1 T# KHow you suffered for you sanity, ' g! Y+ p! Q/ \6 M6 `/ ^
How you tried to set them free,
1 ]4 y3 g B: P' H; I9 \: AThey would not lister they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now.
# \% ?4 q9 |. c* ?+ r2 tStarry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
$ T7 A5 f3 z# x$ x$ Y. A, hSwirling clounds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue,
/ Q0 u7 B* e) k8 q! fColors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain,
" E6 S( u/ C$ M( I# xWeathered face lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. 2 y! r* S, v9 K
' f, w: Z# T- {, ]5 B6 [2 O7 _For they could not love you, but still your love was true, $ [! M- q: y) l6 n7 R! L s
Adn when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night,
' J/ G5 e% h ]# Y5 ]You took your life as lovers ofter do,
/ \9 l5 A: u; WBut I could have told you, Vincent, / u1 o6 ~ R0 N7 d7 s: x7 c" y
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you. 9 B& o9 f1 U- }1 _ l' u N
5 ^( N7 A" O9 q6 t) ~' L; X& YStarry starry night, portraits hung in empty halls,
0 ]& N$ Y! a/ X* w0 U# @Frmeless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget. $ Y1 m! q3 H- x4 q
Like the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes, 5 H. E8 {% h: t5 T$ |
The silver thorn of bloody rose, lit crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
# B" i3 N" m- ^5 R8 [* m, |9 v4 u8 Z# J. C2 M u1 n- u3 e
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me, 3 {2 a3 e( E3 p: b
How you suffered for you sanity,
1 k7 }* l3 @1 V2 i( n$ ]; t3 A& uHow you tried to set them free,
( ?' M" ]" H' |3 ?, oThey would not listen they're not listening still,
# M9 r% d. T/ [" ^Perhaps they never will. |
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