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
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

Photo credits: Wikipedia

Lyrics added by Isabelle P.