She's not a girl who misses much, she's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand, like a lizand on the window pane. The man in 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 Nation Trust.I need a fix 'cause I'm going downDown to the bits that I left uptownI need a fix cause I'm going down. Mother Superior jump the gun, Mother Superior jump the gun.Happiness is a warm gun.Happiness is a warm gun. When I hold you in my arms, and I feel my finger on your trigger, I know nobody can do me no harm.Happiness is a warm gun. Happiness is a warm gun .Happiness is a warm, yes it is. The Beatles.
