The man on the platform

Wants them to conform
They stare at the platform
And they ask him to perform

A miracle a miracle

A debacle a debacle

Oh it's terrible it's terrible

What's in their minds

A banner for our fever

A slogan for our hope
A unity so false
No one part of it can cope with

A miracle a miracle

A debacle a debacle

Oh it's terrible it's terrible

What's in our minds

If someone fetch the brushes
Someone fetch the paints
We'll paint this town red
With red paint
Or with the blood of saints

Or with black paint

It's the colour of soul

The colour that knows

We may never paint this town red
With red paint
Red paint
Red paint
Red paint
A miracle a miracle

A debacle a debacle

Oh it's terrible it's terrible

What's in their minds

A miracle a miracle

A debacle a debacle

Oh it's terrible it's terrible

What's in their minds

If someone fetch the brushes
Someone fetch the paints
We'll paint this town red
With red paint
Or with the blood of saints

Or with black paint

It's the colour of soul

The colour that knows

We may never paint this town red
With red paint