She's not a girl who misses much. 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.
Down, 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, jump the gun...
Happiness is a warm gun, happiness is a warm gun, Mumma!
When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm.
Because 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?
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©opyright Gene Lennin Studio 2003 Best viewed at 800 x 600 with Internet Explorer
World Peace & Long Live Rock'n'Roll !!!
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