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Happiness Is A Warm Gun
She's not a girl who misses much Do do do do do do do do 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 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 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. Because happiness is a warm gun. Yes it is. Because happiness is a warm gun. Yes it is. Oh, don't you know that Happiness is a warm gun. |
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