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 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 be forever)
We are out own wicked gods
With little "g's" and big dicks
Sadistic and constantly inflicting a slow demise
I sent him to the country and I fed him on gingerbread
Along came a choo-choo, knocked my monkey coo-coo
And (k)now my monkey's dead
The primate's scream of consonance is a reflection
Of his own mind's dissonance
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