| G | G | G | |
| Starry, starry | night, pai | nt your palette |
| A | A | C | |
| Blue and grey, L | ook out on a | summer's day, |
| D | D | G | |
| with eyes that know the dar | kness in my soul |
| G | G | |
| Shadows on the hills | , |
| C | A | |
| Sketch the trees and the daffo | dills |
| C | A | |
| C | atch the breeze and the | winter chills, in |
| D | D | G | |
| colors on the sn | owy linen land |
| G | A | A | |
| now I under stand wh | at you tri | ed to |
| G | A | A | |
| Say to me, how you suff | ered for your sa | nity |
| C | G | |
| How you | tried to set them free, |
| C | C | A | |
| they would not listen, th | ey did not know how, |
| D | G | |
| Perhaps they'll listen | now |
| G | G | G | |
| Starry, starry n | ight, flam | ing flowers that |
| A | A | C | |
| Brightly blaze, sw | irling clouds in violet | haze |
| D | D | G | |
| Reflect in Vincent�s eye | s of China Blue |
| G | G | |
| Colors changing hue, |
| C | A | |
| Morning fields of amber gr | ain |
| C | A | |
| Weathered faces lined wi | th pain |
| D | D | G | |
| Are soothed beneath the artist | s loving hand |
| G | A | A | |
| And now I under stand wh | at you tr | ied to |
| G | A | A | |
| say to me, how you suffere | d for your sanity |
| C | G | |
| How you tried to set them free, |
| C | A | |
| they would not listen, they did no | t know how, |
| D | G | |
| Perhaps they'll listen now |
| C | |
| Fo | r they could not love you, |
| C | G | |
| but stil | l your love was true |
| C | C | |
| And when no hope was left in sig | ht |
| C | C | |
| On that | starry, starry nig | ht, |
| G | G | G | |
| you took | your life as lo | vers oft | en do |
| A | C | |
| But I could have told you, Vincent, this worl | d was |
| D | G | |
| Never meant for one as be | autiful as | you |
| G | G | G | |
| Starry, starry | night, p | ortraits hung in |
| A | C | |
| Empty halls, frameless heads on n | ameless walls |
| D | D | G | |
| with eyes that watch the | world and can�t f | orget |
| G | G | |
| Like the strangers that you�ve m | et |
| C | A | |
| The ragged men in ragged c | lothes |
| C | A | |
| T | he silver thorn the bloo | dy rose, lie |
| D | D | G | |
| Crushed and broken on the | virgin snow |
| G | A | A | |
| now I think I know, wha | t you tri | ed to |
| G | A | A | |
| say to me, how you suff | ered for your sani | ty |
| C | G | |
| How | you tried to set the | m free, |
| C | A | |
| They would not listen, they�re not listening still | , |
| D | G | |
| Perhaps they never will� |