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