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 now my monkey's dead
The primate's scream of consonance is a reflection Of his own mind's dissonance