Posted by: crisdiaz24 | March 31, 2011

VINCENT

 

 

DON MCLEAN

Starry, starry night,

Paint your _______________blue and grey

Look out on a summer’s day,

With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.

_______________on the hills,

_______________ the trees and the daffodils,

Catch the breeze and the winter chills,

In colors on the snowy _______________ land.

 

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your________________ ,

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they did not know how.

Perhaps they’ll listen now.

 

Starry, starry night.

_______________ flowers that brightly blaze,

_______________ clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of China blue.

Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain,

_______________ faces lined in pain,

Are _______________ beneath the artist’s loving hand.

 

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your_______________ ,

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 ________________ 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 _______________ for one

As beautiful as you.

 

Starry, starry night.

_______________ hung in empty halls,

_______________ heads on nameless walls,

With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget.

Like the strangers that you’ve met,

The _______________ men in _______________ clothes,

The silver _______________ of bloody rose,

Lie _______________ and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,

How you suffered for your_______________ ,

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they’re not listening still.

Perhaps they never will.

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 your 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 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,

How you suffered for your sanity,

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 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 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,

How you suffered for your sanity,

How you tried to set them free.

They would not listen, they’re not listening still.

Perhaps they never will.

 

 

 

 


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