| 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’ve told you Vincent | 
| This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you | 
| Starry, starry night | 
| Portraits hung in empty halls | 
| Frame-less heads on nameless walls | 
| With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget | 
| Like the strangers that you’ve met | 
| The ragged men 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 | 
| 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 |