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