The Salt Would Routine

Red letters on the dashboard, oh what a GAP
They pursue us to the deep end and then depart
Watch as the cracks in the wall feel pain
For only patterns on a snake's back give us genuine fear
And I cannot lie, faces drop into the fire
I get by all the time on a shelf above the door
And it shouldn't be clear but it's not for me to decide
It's a delicate degree
It's a number I can see
Could prison cells be in my brain
For they're safe inside the cover of a dirty face
And everybody finds a college graduate with joy
While I'm happy just sipping tonic water with lemon and lime