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
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
Happiness is a warm gun
Yes, it is
Happiness is a warm
Yes, it is
Gun

Now don't you know that happiness
Is a warm gun, mama