Patterns 歌词

歌曲	Patterns
歌手	Simon
专辑	The Columbia Studio Recordings (1964-1970)
下载	Image LRC TXT

	Lyrics：Paul Simon Music：Paul Simon
	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.

	Lyrics: Paul Simon Music: Paul Simon
	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.

	Lyrics: Paul Simon Music: Paul Simon
	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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