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 and 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 and I sent him to the country And I fed him on gingerbread Along came a choo-choo and 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