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…look out
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