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 multicolored 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 Happiness is a warm gun (Bang, bang, shoot shoot) 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 Yes, it is