Happiness Is a Warm Gun

The Beatles

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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
Bang, bang, shoot, shoot
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
Bang, bang, shoot, shoot

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 momma
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 momma?