Happiness Is A Warm Gun Letra

She's well acquainted

With the touch of a velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane



Man in the crowd

With the multicoloured mirrors

On his hobnail boots



Lying with his eyes

While his hands are busy

Working overtime



The sole confession of his wife

Which he ate and donated to the

National Trust



I need a fix cause I'm going down

Down to the abyss that I've left up town

I need a fix cause I'm going down



Mother Superior jumped the gun *6



Happiness is a warm gun *4

(Bang, bang, shoot, shoot)





A guy: Josephine, do you think you are going bald?

Josephine: No. You've asked me that before and the answer was no then.