Underneath the heat of the heavy grey skynI thought about last nightnI thought about last nightnWind danced your hair over and away from your eyesnWe were all dressed to the ninesnWe were all dressed to the ninesnnAnd I wonder what we will make of these days of oursnIn the future, what we will make of these days of oursnnAs we rode through the streets at dawnnMy hand was in yoursnMy hand was in yoursnWretched and mistynWho knows where this leads?nWhere all of this may lead?nnAnd I wonder what we will make of these days of oursnIn the future, what we will make of these days of oursnThese days of oursnThese days of oursnThese days of oursnThese days of ours