I had a little monkey
I sent him to the country and I fed him on gingerbread
along came a choo-choo, knocked my mokey 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 mokey 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 our own wicked gods
With little g's and big dicks
Sadistic and constantly inflicting a slow demise
I had a little monkey
I sent him to the country and I fed him on gingerbread
along came a choo-choo, knocked my mokey coo-coo
And now my monkey's dead
The primate's scream of consonance is a reflection
of his own mind's dissonance