Historians

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"
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 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
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 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?