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.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
