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