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Graham Parker
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Green Monkeys
In a distant street a distant beat repeats machine gun like
In a forest grows a sweet fruit filled with poison
In a clear blue sky a plane bursts into flames high above us
In an office blind machines blink out data in a rush
Whatever they say, they say
It isn't true what they say
It didn't come from the gays
The blacks the Haitians or the whores or
Green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
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Or green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
Green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
Or green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
Green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
Or green monkeys, ya, ya, ya, yah
...
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