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