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 colours 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 the free

They would not listen they did not know how

Perhaps they’ll listen know.

 

Starry, starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze

Swirling clouds in violet haze, reflect in Vincent’s eyes of China blue

Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain

Weathered faces lined in pain, are soothed beneath the artists loving hand.

 

Now I understand, what you tried to say to me

How you suffered for your sanity, how you tried to set the free

They would not listen they did not know how

Perhaps they’ll listen know.

 

For they could not love you, but still your love was true

And when no hope was left inside 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 man in ragged clothes

The silver thorn a bloody rose, lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

 

Now I think I know, what you tried to say to me

How you suffered for your sanity, how you tried to set the free

They would not listen they’re not listening still

Perhaps they never will.