Happiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunShe’s not a girl who misses muchShe’s not a girl who misses muchMother superior jump the gunMother superior jump the gunMother superior jump the gunMother superior jump the gunHappiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunShe’s well acquainted with the touch of the velvet handLike a lizard on a window paneThe man in the crowdWith the multicoloured mirrors on his hobnail bootsLying with his eyes wide openAnd the hands busy working overtimeA soap impression of his wife which he ateAnd donated to the national trustHey, I need a fix ’cause I’m going downHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunI need a fix cause I’m going downI need a fix cause I’m going downI need a fix cause I’m going downTo the bits that I left uptownI need a fix cause I’m going down, uptownNeed a fix cause I’m going down, uptownHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a, a warm gunHappiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gun[repeat until end]
