Praying for Time

Woah, ho, yeah
Doo doo doo

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
Has God 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 we
Should all be praying for time

Doo doo doo, oh
Mm-mm
Woah, ho, yeah
Mm-mm

These are the days of the empty hand
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
The television takes a stand
And you find that love is 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 he 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

Doo doo doo doo doo
Oh, ho, yeah
Mm-mm