Happiness Is a Warm Gun

She's not a girl who misses much

Do-do-do-do-do, oh yeah

She's well acquainted with the touch of a 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

The sole confession of his wife

Which he ate and donated to the National Trust

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Down to the abyss that I've 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

Happiness is a warm gun (bang-bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm gun (bang-bang, shoot, shoot)

Josephine, do you think you are going bald?

No, you've asked me that before and the answer was no, then