George Michael - Praying for Time lyrics
[George Michael - Praying for Time lyrics]
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
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
'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
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
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
'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