Happiness Is A Warm Gun
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 windowpane
The man in the crowd with this multi-colored 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 left uptown
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
Mother Superior jumped the gun
...jumped the gun,
...jumped the gun,
...jumped the gun,
...jumped the gun,
...jumped the gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
When I hold you in my arms, (oh yeah)
I feel my finger on your trigger (oh yeah)
I know no one can do me no harm, (oh yeah)
Because happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm, yes it is
Gun
Don`t you know that happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Yea
charon
(491 piesní)
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