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 my 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