Simon & Garfunkel - Patterns

The ^Dmnight sets softly With the hush of falling ^Fle-e-^Dmeaves,

On the houses through the ^Ctrees, And the ^Dmlight from a street lamp Paints a pattern on my ^Fwa-a-^Dmall, Like the pieces of a ^Cpuzzle Or a ^Bbchild's ^C uneven ^Dmscrawl

Up a ^Dmnarrow flight of stairs In a narrow little ^Fro-o-^Dmoom,

In the early evening ^Cgloom. Im^Dmpaled on my wall My eyes can dimly ^Fse-e-^Dme The pattern of my ^Clife And the ^Bbpuzzle ^C that is ^Dmme.

From the ^Dmmoment of my birth To the instant of my ^Fde-e-^Dmeath,

Just as I must breathe each ^Cbreath. Like a ^Dmrat in a maze The path before me ^Fli-i-^Dmies, And the pattern never ^Calters Un^Bbtil ^C the rat ^Dmdies.

And the ^Dmpattern still remains On the wall where darkness ^Ffe-e-^Dmell,

For in darknesss I must ^Cdwell. Like the ^Dmcolor of my skin, Or the day that I grow ^Fo-o-o-^Dmold, My life is made of ^CPatterns That can ^Bbscarcely ^C be con^Dmtrolled.