science says that two dead stars collided once & that’s how earth got all of its gold & it is not vanity to cover yourself in what your people created underneath a summer’s worth of Southern branches & it is not vanity to grow weary of telling the world you cannot be fucked with & it is not vanity to cloak your casket in excess & it is not vanity to have the people who love you bear the weight of your excess for one last time & I imagine it as a question of comfort. Heaven as the only chart worth topping.
