---

I like the smell of your cigarettes,

It reminds me that you did this to yourself.

I like the smell of your perfume,

It hid the alcohol and rotting flesh.

But you, your life, your dreams,

There were none involving me.

And you, you said you'd never be dead.

You're too strong to lettem' take the wheel.

This disease is taking your mind,

I'm at ease that you're fine,

But when a hand becomes a phone,

A car trip, I'm alone.

Denial has no place in this.

I hate the fact that you're still here,

Steering every thought I have.

I hate that you got to say goodbye,

You don't deserve to sever these ties.

And you, your life, your death,

It hasn't really bothered me yet.

But you aren't dead, you're here,

You won't leave my fucking head.

I hope you're okay.