Oh yeah, he do 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 era of the hungry man Whose place is in the best Hand in hand with ignorance and the gentlemen 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 stopped keeping score I guess somewhere along the way He must have let us all out to play Turned his back on all God's children Crammed out the back door And it's hard to love There's so much to hate And on to hope When there is no hope to speak And the wounded skies above Say it's much, 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 Charity is a coat you wear twice a year This is the era 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 stopped keeping score Can't you cling to the things they told you? Did you cover your eyes when they told you That he can't come back cause he has no children To come back, oh, it's hard to love There's so much to hate And on to hope When there is no hope to speak And the wounded skies above Say it's much too late So maybe we should all be praying for time Oh, yeah Thanks for watching!