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180426271.gif
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 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
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
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So maybe we should all be praying for time
And the wounded skies above say it's much too late
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
It's hard to love, there's so much to hate
Cause he has no children to come back for
That he can't come back
Did you cover your eyes when they told you
And you cling to the things they sold you
Cause god's stopped keeping score
I may have too much, but I'll take my chances
Say what's mine is mine and not yours
So you scream from behind your door
And you find that what was over there is over here
Your television takes a stand
This is the year of the guilty man
And charity is a coat you wear twice a year
Oh, you hold on to what you can
These are the days of the empty hand
Well, maybe we should all be praying for time
And the wounded skies above say it's much too late
Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of
And it's hard to love, there's so much to hate
Crept out the back door
Turned his back, and all god's children
He must have let us ALL* out to play
I guess somewhere along the way
Cause god's stopped keeping score
If we have too much, but we'll take our chances
And most of us are not sure
The rich declare themselves poor
Hand in hand with ignorance and legitimate excuses
Whose place is in the past
This is the year of the hungry man
These are the days of the beggars and the choosers
They will not be the last, look around now
These are the days of the open hand
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