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Starry starry night, paint your palette blue and grey, 8 t7 ~: F' C" Z; f8 N9 x
Look out on a summer's day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul, ( [+ x5 ?8 W3 s+ [* C* n
Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and the daffoodils,4 F9 B/ {8 h0 } ?6 @# F# v [& N. p
Catch the breeze and the winter chillsm in colors on the snowy linen land. * `: q4 \ G5 k9 [3 B
Now I understand what you tried to say to me,' l7 t# x9 n1 u i; ^* N# K( X) L) b
How you suffered for you sanity,
) H f. a2 U0 L8 O% lHow you tried to set them free, 3 R: v8 B! y ?7 H
They would not lister they did not know how, perhaps they'll listen now. & X* Z: k( [- p1 N8 t& g4 C8 Z
Starry starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, 8 h. P3 H4 N: o# S; M! t `) `
Swirling clounds in violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue, ! w/ O+ d" T5 g+ L" s9 u
Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain,
3 l( [. `' B4 M8 b8 M# B0 I1 w9 X" AWeathered face lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
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" @6 H1 F# c3 d; ?: i7 OFor they could not love you, but still your love was true,
5 J, d( \0 h' z2 v! V: i9 pAdn when no hope was left in sight, on that starry starry night, & e$ e3 p8 J/ a! p# P
You took your life as lovers ofter do, 0 F( c1 i0 i. W2 Q1 h& C
But I could have told you, Vincent,
# T8 O7 X& R% D8 w! VThis world was never meant for one as beautiful as you. 8 ^; Y" i. P; p x6 ~
7 _7 C' v% X8 K5 j. H1 C+ \Starry starry night, portraits hung in empty halls,
. P" ~) B8 \! ^* Q4 GFrmeless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget. 7 j8 l2 N( U4 w5 i
Like the stranger that you've met, the ragged man in ragged clothes, 4 ?+ ?$ q3 Y# h7 P' C# T) ~
The silver thorn of bloody rose, lit crushed and broken on the virgin snow. / H# Z8 W- c2 X# P
" y0 {7 w h. |5 KNow I think I know what you tried to say to me, + i0 U7 C; R' R: c6 O$ O5 q+ U8 w
How you suffered for you sanity,
0 C! V" e7 V+ F) t* x5 f1 Y! E xHow you tried to set them free,
& U \( _2 N! [- c* B. c' WThey would not listen they're not listening still, , t8 B1 v+ y" M
Perhaps they never will. |
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