Winnebago Skeletons

There'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