Lyric 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 multicolored mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
A soap impression of hiswife 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
In eed a fix cause I m going down

Mother Superior jump the gun

H appiness is a warm gun

When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know that no one can do me no harm
Because h appiness is a warmgun
Yes it is