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“The past is a bad invention that keeps on happening And it hurts to think about, like an unpaid bill It's the wind dragging the desert backwards at night & it burns you, like a pastel whip” — Hera Lindsay Bird
The past is a bad invention that keeps on happening
And it hurts to think about, like an unpaid bill
It's the wind dragging the desert backwards at night
& it burns you, like a pastel whip