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.