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 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

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, mama
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, mama
Happiness is a warm gun Yes, it is
Happiness is a warm Yes, it is Gun
Don't you know that happiness
Is a warm gun, mama