Woah hoo yeah
Mmmm
do-do doo woah
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
The wounded
skies above
say it's much
it's much too late
well maybe w..e
Should all be
praying for time
These are the days
of the empty hand
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
it's 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
did 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
Do-do doo
ooh hoo yeah