Lyrics:

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 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 jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is
When I hold you in my arms
When I feel my finger on your trigger
Don't ya 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 y'know that happiness is a warm gun, mama