I had a little monkey
I sent him to the country
and I fed him on gingerbread
Along came a choo-choo,
knocked my monkey coo-coo
And now my monkey's dead
At least he looks that way,
but then again don't we all
(what I make is what I am, I can't be forever)
I had a little a monkey I sent him
to the country and I fed him on gingerbread
Along came a choo-choo,
knocked my monkey coo-coo
And now my monkey's dead
Poor little monkey
'Make you...break you...make
you...break you...lookout'
(what I make is what I am,
I can't live forever)
We are our own wicked gods
With little g's and big dicks
Sadistic and constantly inflicting
a slow demise
I had a little a monkey I sent
him to the country and I fed him on gingerbread
Along came a choo-choo,
knocked my monkey coo-coo
And now my monkey's dead
The primate's scream of
consonance is a reflection
Of his own mind's dissonance
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