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. (Play three times)
Happiness is a warm gun
(Bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, momma.
(Bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
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, momma.
(Bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is.
(Bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
Fm N.C.
Happiness is a warm, yes it is...
Gun. (Happiness... bang, bang, shoot, shoot)
Well don't you know that
Happiness is a warm gun, momma.
(Happiness... is a warm gun, yeah!)