Starry, starry now. For they could not loveyou, but still your love was true. And whenno hope was left in sight on that starry,starry night, you took your life, as loversoften do. But I could have told you, Vincent,this world was never meant for one as beau-tiful as you.Starry, starry night. Portraits hung inempty halls, frameless heads on name-less walls, with eyes that watch the worldand cant forget. Like the strangers thatyouve met, the ragged men in raggedclothes, the silver thorn of bloody rose,lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.Now I think I know what you tried to sayto me, how you suffered for your sanity,and how you tded to set them free. Theywould not listen. Theyre not listening still... Perhaps they never will ...
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