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