She's not a girl who misses much
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 let 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, 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