Winnebago Skeletons

Here's a fish in my stomach a thousand years old Can't swim a full circle The water's too cold Burnt out cars in my fingers Conveyor belts flow, right angles and steam whistles Nothing can grow A big-antlered deer stepping into the road A beautiful woman with her head in the stove The skyscrapers crumble heavy with rats The wind's full of beer cans and whiffle ball bats This fish in my stomach wears a full length mink But his teeth float in sherry in a jar by the sink He's the withered remains of Rin Tin Tin taking his new Cadillac out for a spin The endless sea of traffic lights never make a sound like Ben Franklin's electric kite crashing to the Ground and the Winnebago skeletons beneath this bankrupt town