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-coloured 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 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
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
(bang bang, shoot shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, mama
(bang bang, shoot shoot)

When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger (oh, yeah)
I know nobody can do me no harm (oh, yeah)
Because is a warm gun, mama (bang bang, shoot shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, yes, it is (bang bang, shoot shoot)

Happiness is a warm — yes it is — gun
(Bang bang, shoot shoot)
Well, don't you know that happiness
(happiness) is a warm gun (is a warm gun)