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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