Vincent - Don McLean

Vincent
by Don McLean

Starry, starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
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
and, how you suffered for your sanity
and, 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 China blue - colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain - weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me
and, how you suffered for your sanity
and, 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 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 stranger that you've met;
the ragged men in ragged clothes,
a silver thorn and a bloody rose,
lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

And now I think I know what you tried to say to me
and, how you suffered for your sanity
and, how you tried to set them free.

They would not listen - they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will.