Red letters on the dashboard, oh what a GAPThey pursue us to the deep end and then departWatch as the cracks in the wall feel painFor only patterns on a snake's back give us genuine fear And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fireI get by all the time on a shelf above the doorAnd it shouldn't be clear but it's not for me to decideIt's a delicate degreeIt's a number I can see Could prison cells be..