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