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