Текст (слова) песни: Beatles - Happiness is a Warm Gun
She`s not a girl who misses much 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 multicolored mirrors On his hobnail boots Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy Working overtime A soap impression of hiswife 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 In eed a fix `cause I`m going down
Mother Superior jump the gun
H appiness is a warm gun
When I hold you in my arms And I feel my finger on your trigger I know that no one can do me no harm Because h appiness is a warmgun Yes it is
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