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