Praying for Time - Remastered

Oh-oh, yeah
 Mmm
 To-do-do, oh-oh
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 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
 'Cause God's 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
 And the wounded skies above
 Say it's much, too much, too late
 
 Well, maybe we should all be praying for time
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 To-do-do, oh-oh
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 Mmm, whoa-whoa, yeah
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 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
 'Cause God's 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 '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
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 To-do-do
 ♪
 Oh-oh, yeah