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Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraHappiness Is a Warm Gun
She's not a girl who misses muchDo do do do do do, oh, yeahShe's well acquainted withthe touch of the velvet handLike a lizard on a window paneThe man in the crowd withthe multicoloured mirrorsOn his hobnail bootsLying with his eyes while his hands are busyWorking overtimeA soap impression of his wife which he ateAnd donated to the Nation TrustI need a fix, cause I'm going downDown to the bits that I left uptownI need a fix, cause I'm going downMother Superior jump the gunHappiness is a warm gunHappiness is a warm gun, mamaWhen I hold you in my armsAnd I feel my finger on your triggerI know nobody can do me no harmBecause happiness is a warm gun, mamaHappiness is a warm gun Yes, it isHappiness is a warm Yes, it is GunDon't you know that happinessIs a warm gun, mama
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