I used to hate the smell of cigarettes because they reminded me of you. And all the bad decisions you had made. They reminded me of the late night calls begging for a rescue. They reminded me of the broken window and bloodstained hand. You were so addicted to the things that lead to your demise. But you've traded your cigarettes and ***** for Christ and a bible. And you've bargained for your forgiveness and prayed for some redemption. But I still hate the smell of cigarettes, because they serve as a reminder of just how easy it is to spark the things we think will give us healing, but end up catching fire and destroy us.

They talk about these dead cells. Shocking them back into life. Making them immortal because every time they slip into nothingness they are brought back. I don't believe that any amount of science could bring you back to me. Not the way you were before. Your cells may return but you never truly will.

I never thought I'd be here
In front of this giant among men
As you tell me that you've struggled
And there's a light at the end

I never thought I'd be here
Sitting by your desk
As I confess that I'm not happy
And am wishing for the end

And I never thought I'd be here
As you tell me to hold on
I never thought I'd be here
But I'm already gone

The good can never stay
And the bad refuses to go
Your clothes aren't fitting right
And your spring skies only bring you snow

Your hands are numb,
to match your heart
And poison words
From your lips departs

Are these butterflies? Or nausea?
The two seem so alike
I'm puking up my feelings for you
But you turn around to fight

No comfort to be found here
No lingering embrace
All that's left's an empty soul
To match a nameless face

I understand life comes in waves
And I'm beginning to think
I need to hold onto the things that save
And let go of those that make me sink

Your binoculars are cracked
You've lost your sense of sight
Alone in the dark
You're filled with utter fright

Your targets been missed
And there's no where to go
Your binoculars are cracked
And now you've nothing to show

Your binoculars are cracked
The only way to see
But you're so far in the future
You forget to stop and be

Your hindsights 20/20
And now you realize
Your binoculars are cracked
But you have perfectly working eyes

I wish there was more I could say to make you understand
The demons are inside of us, walking hand in hand

And when the nights come, when I cry myself to sleep
I tell myself it's your demons, that make you say those things

But the truth that I'm to afraid to find,
The truth that hides within your mind

Is it from your demons you wish to be free
Or are you tired of something else, something more like me?

Our demons don't play well together, at least not anymore
So perhaps we should say goodbye and open up new doors