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HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN
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 multi-colored 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

Happiness is a warm gun

When I hold you in my arms, and I feel my finger on you trigger I know no one can do me no harm

Because happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun