HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN
The Beatles


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 National Trust


I need a fix because I'm going down
Down to the bits that I left uptown
I need a fix because I'm going down

[Verse 3]
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped 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 when 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?