Texty: Simon And Garfunkel. Patterns.

The night sets softly with the hush of falling leaves
Casting shivering shadows on the houses through the trees
And the light from a street lamp paints a pattern on my wall
Like the pieces of a puzzle or a child's uneven scrawl

Up a narrow flight of stairs in a narrow little room
As I lie upon my bed in the early evening gloom
Impaled on my wall, my eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life and the puzzle that is me

From the moment of my birth to the instant of my death
There are patterns I must follow just as I must breathe each breath
Like a rat in a maze, the path before me lies
And the pattern never alters until the rat dies

And the pattern still remains on the wall where darkness fell
And it's fitting that it should, for in darkness I must dwell
Like the color of my skin or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns that can scarcely be controlled