Vincent's crows on the horizon Haunted black scrawls on Flanders blue The blade bore love as real as breathing A canvas so directly true Vincent's crows beyond impressions Lost in masses empty words Upon the page the death of feeling All unseen in the flight of birds
Vincent's crows are swooping 'round my head Vincent's crows are swooping 'round my head
Vincent's crows find Gauguin silent Tahiti fondles his disease Vincent's mirror decays in meaning He draws a blank down on his knees Lend an ear and grant asylum Colour his spirit far from sane For in winged claws there curls a question Beyond all hope, beyond all pain