Happiness is a Warm gun

She's not a girl who misses much

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 multi-colored mirrors

On his hob-nailed boots

Lying with his eyes while his hands

Working over time

A soap impression of his wife which he ate

And donated to the Nation's Trust

I need a fix cause I'm going down

Down to the *itch that I left uptown

I need a fix cause I'm going down

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped 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 that nobody can do me no harm

Happiness is a warm gun, mama

Happiness is a warm gun


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