Outside my window theres a Whole lot of trouble comin The cartoon killers and the Rag cover clones Stack heels kickin rhythm Of social circumcision Cant close the closet on Shoe box full of bones Kangaroo lady with her bourbon in a pouch Cant afford the rental on a bamboo couch Collecting back her favors cause her well is running dry I know her act is terminal, But she aint gonna die Slim intoxicado drinkin dime store hooch Is always in a circle with his part-time pooch Little creepys playing dollies in the New York rain Thinkin Bowies just a knife Ooh the pain I aint seen the sun since I dont know when The freaks come out at nine And its twenty to ten Whats this funk That you call junk To me its just monkey business Blind man in the vox that will probably die The village kids laugh as they walk by A psycho is on the edge of this human garbage dump And the vultures in the sewers are telling Him to jump Into the fire from the frying pan Tripping on his tounge For a cool place to stand Wheres this shade That youve got it made To me its just monkey business Monkey business Slippin on the track Monkey business Jungle in black Aint your business if I got No monkey on my back Monkey business Slippin on the track Monkey business Jungle in black Aint your business If I got Monkeys on my back The vaseline gypsies and silicone souls Dressed to the society Hypocrite heartbeat and cheap alibis Cant get you by that monkey
Posted on: Sat, 19 Oct 2013 21:38:18 +0000