| Starry, starry night
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| Paint your palette blue and gray
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| Look out on a summer’s day
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| With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
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| Shadows on the hills
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| Sketch the trees and the daffodils
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| Catch the breeze and the winter chills
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| In colors on the snowy linen land
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| Now I understand
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| What you tried to say to me
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| And how you suffered for your sanity
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| And how you tried to set them free
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| They would not listen
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| They did not know how
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| Perhaps they’ll listen now
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| Starry, starry night
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| Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
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| Swirling clouds in violet haze
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| Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue
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| Colors changing hue
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| Morning fields of amber grain
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| Weathered faces lined in pain
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| Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand
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| 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
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| But still your love was true
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| And when no hope was left in sight
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| On that starry, starry night
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| You took your life, as lovers often do
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| But I could’ve told you Vincent
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| This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you
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| Starry, starry night
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| Portraits hung in empty halls
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| Frame-less heads on nameless walls
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| With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget
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| Like the strangers that you’ve met
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| The ragged men in ragged clothes
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| The silver thorn of bloody rose
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| Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
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| 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
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| They’re not listening still
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| Perhaps they never will |