Historians - Lucy Dacus

You said «Don't go changing

I’ll rearrange to let you in

And I’ll be your historian

And you’ll be mine

And I’ll fill pages of scribbled ink

Hoping the words carry meaning»

Then one day, the motorcade

Covered in flower wreaths

First in a big parade

Will come to take one of us away

Leaving the other with plenty to read

This is what I want to talk about

But somehow the words will not leave my mouth

Was I most complete at the beginning or the bow?

If past you were to meet future me

Would you be holding me here and now?