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The night sets softlyWith the hush of falling leaves,Casting shivering shadowsOn the houses through the trees,And the light from a street lampPaints a pattern on my wall,Like the pieces of a puzzleOr a child's uneven scrawl.Up a narrow flight of stairsIn a narrow little room,As I lie upon my bedIn the early evening gloom.Impaled on my wallMy eyes can dimly seeThe pattern of my lifeAnd the puzzle that is me.From the moment of my birthTo the instant of my death,There are patterns I must followJust as I must breathe each breath.Like a rat in a mazeThe path before me lies,And the pattern never altersUntil the rat dies.And the pattern still remainsOn the wall where darkness fell,And it's fitting that it should,For in darkness I mst dwell.Like the color of my skin,Or the day that I grow old,My life is made of patternsThat can scarcely be controlled.
Simon and Garfunkel
Patterns
Patterns
The night sets softlyWith the hush of falling leaves,Casting shivering shadowsOn the houses through the trees,And the light from a street lampPaints a pattern on my wall,Like the pieces of a puzzleOr a child's uneven scrawl.Up a narrow flight of stairsIn a narrow little room,As I lie upon my bedIn the early evening gloom.Impaled on my wallMy eyes can dimly seeThe pattern of my lifeAnd the puzzle that is me.From the moment of my birthTo the instant of my death,There are patterns I must followJust as I must breathe each breath.Like a rat in a mazeThe path before me lies,And the pattern never altersUntil the rat dies.And the pattern still remainsOn the wall where darkness fell,And it's fitting that it should,For in darkness I mst dwell.Like the color of my skin,Or the day that I grow old,My life is made of patternsThat can scarcely be controlled.
