Watch the cars spin and swerve on a wet country road. Their dance is deadly. Their faces are scratched and bleeding. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows! Their buck-toothed smiles go clickety-clack as they slow against the damp rails.
Stand at your window and sip your late night decaf as the build-up grows. The sirens whimper more than scream. Even the police cars are dragged into the choreography - they spin and they swerve and they dance.