Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
She's not a girl who misses much
She's not a girl who misses much
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
Happiness is a warm gun
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 wide open
And the hands busy working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust
Hey I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
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