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 a velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

Man in the crowd

With the multicoloured mirrors

On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes

While his hands are busy

Working overtime

The sole confession 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've left uptown

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Happiness is a warm gun

Happiness is a warm gun

Happiness is a warm gun