Happiness Is A Warm Gun

She's not a girl who misses much

Do do do do do do, oh yeah

She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

The man in the crowd with the multi-colored mirrors

On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime

A soap inpression of his wife

which he ate and donated to the National 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

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 no one can do me no harm

Because Happiness is a warm gun - Yes it is