We're not there, Dan and Marie, we're not there, don't look at me: we are strangers and we don't exist.
Remember that we have never even existed at all? Do we really need a reminder, Dan and Marie? It's January 20th, 1858, and we're still standing where we began, urn in hand, stone, and brick.
A young couple has tied the knot, walking the line between the knife and the fork. Another happy couple, walking the same line, but this time with guns in their hands. Standing there in the dust and in the dirt, they haven't even begun to think, they haven't even begun to feel. Swallowing dust that's still warm, they're walking a thousand miles to the same place. Same place. Sorrow and distance, they hold them close, they keep them apart, and in the end, all they see is the wall.