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$ i! T9 L0 h* e. o" S8 yStarry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey,
' v& v1 g9 K+ xLook out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul, ! q) i/ m* g3 s6 b4 I j6 E( X$ p
Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffoodils,
2 H- F. \3 W* J2 e9 U. U- J- TCatch the breeze and the winter chillsm in colors on the snowy linen land. 9 o x5 u" d8 H# ^: T9 F
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
7 `0 V3 p% c: l' k9 j% y6 KHow you suffered for you sanity,
6 Y- G+ c3 e" |: m8 ~4 X% qHow you tried to set them free,
' u9 A% c2 v' J* YThey would not lister they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now. R# [! ^, r+ w6 @
Starry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, : u4 S" ^& n: R
Swirling clounds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue,
$ [4 D6 ^1 T1 N3 G, L& Y' ^9 ]1 T( [0 LColors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain,
$ p% y& V, K9 rWeathered face lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. ; z% g o" c" ^" n4 o& C
( L; _+ Q& D" m- [) ~For they could not love you, but still your love was true, * l8 Q$ n" @/ i# V
Adn when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night,
" L$ x; Z5 `6 e- R0 BYou took your life as lovers ofter do, & v- W' g7 K6 W X w
But I could have told you, Vincent,
8 S3 V% n3 } q/ G* DThis world was never meant for one as beautiful as you. 9 R) b9 _5 ?- w* S2 J G
1 ], s3 ~: Y4 @; u) k- }8 D8 qStarry starry night, portraits hung in empty halls,
8 E3 E5 Z, G* P+ \: _+ R* G0 BFrmeless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
% S1 M, {- ^8 Q, W5 jLike the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes,
7 v2 d. \% e5 G$ g, e6 uThe silver thorn of bloody rose, lit crushed and broken on the virgin snow. ; U/ l- k; n) @, I% S8 f1 e0 [* Z
, R z- u2 B% p/ { ]3 jNow I think I know what you tried to say to me,
3 V0 l6 J- F/ T5 i% o7 JHow you suffered for you sanity,! e7 ~6 R, n* @1 J, E' g
How you tried to set them free,
$ H2 [; g2 T# v1 S# _: cThey would not listen they're not listening still, + h6 w8 f* W' s7 `
Perhaps they never will. |
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