"These are the days of the open hand
They will not be the last
Look around now
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man
Whose place is in the past
Hand in hand with ignorance
And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor
And most of us are not sure
If we have too much
But we'll take our chances
Because god's stopped keeping score
I guess somewhere along the way
He must have let us alt out to play
Turned his back and all god's children
Crept out the back door
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope
When there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it's much too late
Well maybe we should all be praying for time
These are the days of the empty hand
Oh you hold on to what you can
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man
Your television takes a stand
And you find that what was over there is over here
So you scream from behind your door
Say "what's mine is mine and not yours"
I may have too much but i'll take my chances
Because god's stopped keeping score
And you cling to the things they sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can't come back
Beacuse he has no children to come back for
It's hard to love there's so much to hate
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And the wounded skies above say it's much too late
So maybe we should all be praying for time
These don't appear to be the correct lyrics:
"These are the days of the open hand They will not be the last Look around now These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
This is the year of the hungry man Whose place is in the past Hand in hand with ignorance And legitimate excuses
The rich declare themselves poor And most of us are not sure If we have too much But we'll take our chances Because god's stopped keeping score I guess somewhere along the way He must have let us alt out to play Turned his back and all god's children Crept out the back door
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate Hanging on to hope When there is no hope to speak of And the wounded skies above say it's much too late Well maybe we should all be praying for time
These are the days of the empty hand Oh you hold on to what you can And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
This is the year of the guilty man Your television takes a stand And you find that what was over there is over here
So you scream from behind your door Say "what's mine is mine and not yours" I may have too much but i'll take my chances Because god's stopped keeping score And you cling to the things they sold you Did you cover your eyes when they told you
That he can't come back Beacuse he has no children to come back for
It's hard to love there's so much to hate Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of And the wounded skies above say it's much too late So maybe we should all be praying for time