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.