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

(George Michael)