She's not a girl who misses much
Doo, doo, doo, doo, 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 '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!
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!
Well, don't you know that happiness is a warm gun, mama?
(Lennon/McCartney)