By Don McLean

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 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
how you suffered for you sanity 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 chine blue
colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist\’s loving hand

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 man in ragged clothes
the silver thorn of bloody rose, lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

now i think i know what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for you sanity how you tried to set them free
they would not listen they\’re not listening still
perhaps they never will