Oh yeah      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   'Cause God's stopped keeping score      I guess somewhere along the way   He must have let us all 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 much too late   Well maybe we should all be praying for time, oh yeah      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   'Cause God's stopped keeping score      And you cling to the things they sold you   Didn't you cover your eyes when they told you?   That he can't come back   'Cause 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, oh yeah