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 Mother Superior jump the gun Mother Superior jump the gun. Happiness is a warm gun （bang, bang, shoot shoot） Happiness is a warm gun 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. Yes it is.
