Vincent

starey starey night, paint your palette blue and grey, Look out on a summers day, with eyes that know the darkness in my soul. Shad-ows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffodils, Catch the breeze and the 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. starey starey night, flaming flowrs that brightly biaze, Weathered faces lined in 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 of ten do but i could have told you Vincent This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you starey starey night, portraits hung in empty halls, frame less heads on name less walls, with eyes that watch the world and can't for get, like the stran gers 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 listning still perhaps they never will