in the aluminum bog

when i was a younger man,
and plywood fish swam free,
we'd catch 'em and skin 'em all we want -
build a house in every tree.

you know trees are made of aluminum -
you know they get cold at night,
but nice little bit of plywood
keeps a body warmed just right.

plywood fish aplenty to build with,
sawed with teeth of diamond dogs,
sealed right up with potato glue -
that was life in th'aluminum bogs.

but life's so different today, son,
hardly anyone lives out here now,
'cept for you and me and your mother,
along our aluminum bough.

all the plywood fish went to houses.
all the diamond dogs went to saws.
glue taters won't grow in the dry land
that was once th'aluminum bog.

and that's why we're leaving now, son,
why we're climbing down outta this tree.
there's nothing left here for us --
for you, or your momma, or me.