This is Vincent. 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 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 grey 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 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 Like the strangers that you've met Like the strangers that you've met The ragged man in ragged clothes A 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 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