She’s not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do do do ooh 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 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
But don’t you know that happiness is a warm gun mama