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.