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 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
Mother Superior, jump the gun, 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
Well, don't you know that happiness is a warm gun, mama
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