She's not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do, oh yeah
She's well acquainted
With the touch of a velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
Man in the crowd
With the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes
While his hands are busy
Working overtime
The sole confession 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've left uptown
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun