He wear no shoeshine he got toe-jam football
He got monkey finger he shoot coca-cola
He say "I know you, you know me"
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
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'
Well do you, don't you want me to make you
I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you
Tell me tell me tell me the answer
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer.
(what I make is what I am, I can't live forever)
We are our own wicked gods
With little g's and big d***s
s*****ic 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
He got monkey finger he shoot coca-cola
He say "I know you, you know me"
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free
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'
Well do you, don't you want me to make you
I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you
Tell me tell me tell me the answer
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer.
(what I make is what I am, I can't live forever)
We are our own wicked gods
With little g's and big d***s
s*****ic 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