Praying for Time

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 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



chorus

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 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

because he has no children

to come back for



chorus


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