Marilyn Manson - My Monkey

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... look out

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

(it is better than loving... Goddamn... you are already dead...)

I don't want to stop when that happens.