HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN

The Beatles- 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 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

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
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun

Happiness is a warm gun
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
When I hold you in my arms
(Ooooooooohhh, oh yeah!)
And when I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun, momma
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
Happiness is a warm gun
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
-Yes it is, it's a warm gun!
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
Happiness is a warm, yes it is...
GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
Well don't ya know that happiness is a warm gun, momma?
(Bang Bang Shoot Shoot)
Yeeeaahhh!

Happiness is a warm gun. Here is a toast to all morbid songs that so aptly reveal the darker recesses of the human consciousness.

Here is another toast to a song that supports my "Happiness does not exist" theory. Uh huh... It exists only in the state after the trigger is pulled.