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 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 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 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, yes it is When I hold you in my arms When I feel my finger on your trigger Don't ya know nobody can do me no harm Because happiness is a warm gun, mama Happiness is a warm gun Yes it is Happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun Well don't y'know that happiness is a warm gun, mama