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 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, 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 so hard to love when 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.