No matter how many times we paint over these walls
the writing still shines through


in the stream of commerce we're afloat
a thousand washed-up rockers trash the banks.
oh no.


in the stream of commerce we're afloat
and unafraid to sail a sinking boat

honestly my hand is on the plug this time
it says here right on my dotted line


haste creates waste
keep your eyes on the road
you might be able to drive

but you're so lucky to be alive

in the stream of commerce we're afloat

miles of red tape have choked us dead
now it's building like a nasty mold
and everybody can't help but catch the cold


aah aahh aaahh


all the writing on the wall shines through...
all the while we knew