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.