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 daffodills
Catch the breeze and winter chills, in
colors on the snowy linen land
And now I under stand 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 with pain
Are soothed beneath the artists loving hand
And now I under stand 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 sometimes 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, fearless 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 the never will