Am I Addicted?

Bargaining with the drive itself — would there be anything left of me without the chase?

Lyrics

(After all the fire...)
(All that's left is the question.)

What if I stopped needing perfection?
Would I still recognize myself?

If I wasn't chasing better versions
Would there be anything left?

I tell myself it keeps me sharp
I tell myself it makes me, me
But underneath the constant climbing
I can't tell if I'm choosing this
Or it is choosing me

Am I addicted to becoming
And apprehensive to simply be?

Am I addicted...?
Or is this essential?
Do I need this to live
Or just to feel alive?

Am I addicted...
Or is this what I am?
Am I addicted?

I built a cage and called it freedom
I bled and called it discipline

If I let the grip go loosely
Would I lose the only thing
That's holding me in?

I tell myself it keeps me sharp
I tell myself it makes me, me
But underneath the constant climbing
I can't tell if I'm choosing this
Or it is choosing me

Am I addicted to becoming
And apprehensive to simply be?

Am I addicted...?
Or is this essential?
Do I need this to live
Or just to feel alive?

Why does the good always slip right through
Why does the good always slip right through

Why does the good always slip right through?!
Would there be anything left of me?!

Am I addicted to becoming
And apprehensive to simply be?

Am I addicted...
Or is this what I am?

Why does the good always slip right through...