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Me, My Self, and Eye
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Praying For Time

By George Michael

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’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 late
Well maybe we should all
Be praying for time

Do you think we have time?
Do you think we have 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
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’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
Because 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
Maybe we should all
Be praying for time

Do you think we have time?
Do you think we have time?

Please give us time.


If You Could Read My Mind

By Gordon Lightfoot — Circa 1979 Soundstage Chicago

If you could read my mind love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
About a ghost from a wishin’ well.
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me.

And I will never be set free,
As long as I’m a ghost,
That you can see.

If I could read your mind love,
What a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind a drugstore would sell.
When you reach the part,
Where the heartaches come,
The hero would be me.

But the heroes often fail.

And you won’t read that book again.
Because the ending’s just too hard to take.

I’d walk away, like a movie star,
Who gets burned in a three way script.
Enter, number two.
A movie queen, to play the scene,
Of bringing all the good things out in me.
But for now love, let’s be real.

I never knew I could feel this way,
And I have got to say, that I just don’t get it.
I don’t know where we went wrong,
But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back.

If you could read my mind love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie,
About a ghost from a wishin’ well.
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet.

But the stories always end.

And if you read between the lines,
You will know that I’m just tryin’ to understand.
Every feeling that you lack.

I never knew I could feel this way,
And I have got to say that I just don’t get it.
I don’t know where we went wrong,
But the feeling’s gone,
And I just can’t get it back.


Ω

Julius Caesar, Act 4, Scene 3, 218–224

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men.
Which, Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune;
Omitted, All The Voyage Of Their Life
Is Bound In Shallows And In Miseries.
On Such A Full Sea Are We Now Afloat,
And We Must Take The Current When It Serves,
Or Lose Our Ventures.