Happiness Is A Warm Gun
She's not a girl who misses much.
Do roo roo roo roo, oh yeah!
She's well acquainted with the touch of a velvet hand
like a lizard on a window pane.
The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
on his hobnail boots,
lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
working overtime.
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
and donated to the Nation Trust.
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down,
down to the bits that I left uptown.
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Mother Superior jump the gun.
Happiness is a warm gun.
Happiness is a warm gun.
When I hold you in my arms,
and I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm, because ...
Happiness is a warm gun.
Happiness is a warm gun.
Happiness is a warm ... yes it is .. gun.
Happiness is a warm gun.
