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 live 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 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 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 scsream of consonance is a reflection

Of his mind's own dissonance

This page hosted by Get your own

Free Home Page