The night sets softly with the hush of falling leaves
   Casting shivering shadows on the houses through the trees
   And the light from the 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 patters 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 when darkness fell
   And it's fitting that it should for in darkness I must dwell
   Like the colour of my skin or the day that I grow old
   My life was made of patterns that can scarcely be controlled