She's not a girl who misses much 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 abyss that I've left up town 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 Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun Happiness is a warm gun