They would not listen, they did not know how perhaps they’ll listen. Now starry starry night, Music, flaming flowers, that brightly blaze. Swirling clouds in violet haze, reflective, instant size of china, blue colors, changing hue Music morning, fields of ambergrain 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 to 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 Music and when no hope was left inside 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 silverthorne, a 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.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrYPqVKxqtY