In the queen's old town, lived royaltynHappy with their little gangs, happy with their TVsnThen came a knock on their doornAnd a handshake or twonPhotograph flashes, betacam madnessnThe men in white whispered in their ears, they saidn'Make-shift Magic!'nnGrandma is sick, her hands are shakingnThe walls are covered black, and the room it starts a-shakingnBut now her money's in the papers, a lot of smiling facesn'Get out of yr slums, slide into the modern agenWe'll show you, you'll be happy with ournMake-shift Magic!'