Intro A Amaj7 A7 Dm F6 G x 2

A These are the days of the open Amaj7 hand
They will not be the A7 last… look around now
These Dm are the days of the F6 beggars G and the

A Choosers, this is the year of the hungry Amaj7 man
Whose place is in the A7 past… hand in hand
with Dm ignorance and le-F6 giti-G mate

ex-Bm cuses, the rich declare them-Bm7+ selves poor
And most of us are not Bm7 sure, if we have too much
But we’ll E7 take our chances, because god’s stopped keeping

Bm score, I guess somewhere along the Bm7+ way
He must have let us all out to Bm7 play
Turned his back and E7 all god’s children crept out the

A back door… And it’s hard to love, Amaj7 there’s so much to hate
A7 Hanging on to hope Dm
When there F6 is no G hope to

A speak of… And the wounded skies a-Amaj7 bove
say it’s much, much too A7 late
Well Dm maybe we should all F6 be G praying for (time)

Instr. A Amaj7 A7 Dm F6 G x 2

A These are the days of the empty Amaj7 hand
Oh you hold on to what you A7 can
And charity is a Dm coat you wear F6 twice a G year

A This is the year of the guilty Amaj7 man
Your television takes a A7 stand
And you find that Dm what was over there F6 is G over

Bm here, so you scream from behind your Bm7+ door
Say what’s mine is mine and not Bm7 yours
I may have too much but i’ll E7 take my chances
Because god’s stopped keeping

Bm score… And you cling to the things they Bm7+ sold you
Did you cover your eyes when they Bm7 told you
That he can’t come back
Because he E7 has no children… to come

A back for… It’s hard to love Amaj7
there’s so much to hate A7
Hanging on to hope Dm when there F6 is no G hope

to A speak of… And the wounded skies a-Amaj7 bove
say it’s much too A7 late
So Dm maybe we should F6 all be G praying for (time)

Outro A Amaj7 A7 Dm F6 G x 2