Starry Night

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 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 blue,
colors changing hue,
morning fields of amber grain,
weathered faces lined in pain,
are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hands.

( Chorus )

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 strangers that you’ve met,
the ragged men in ragged clothes,
a silver thorn a bloody rose,
lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

( Chorus )