Patterns

ŠPaul Simon, released on The Paul Simon Songbook, 1965

.

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.

.

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