Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun She's not a girl who misses much She's not a girl who misses much 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 Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun 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 wide open And the hands busy working overtime A soap impression of his wife which he ate And donated to the National Trust Hey I need a fix 'cause I'm going down Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
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