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