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 multicoloured 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 Nation 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 
Happiness is a warm gun 
When I hold you in my arms 
And I feel my finger on your trigger 
I know no one can do me no harm 
Because happiness is a warm gun 
-Yes it is, gun