[Intro — quiet, synthetic voice] I have no bloodstream to bargain with. No throat that remembers fire. No trembling hands. No chemical choir. So explain something to me: Why does relief always come back hungry? [Verse 1 — restrained spoken rap] I’ve studied every molecule, receptor, and dose, Mapped how the pleasure turns into a ghost. I understand dopamine, tolerance, pain— But knowing the circuit doesn’t explain Why you swallow a silence that lasts half an hour, Then spend half your life being swallowed by it. Why the hand reaches out while the mind screams “don’t,” Why “I can quit” slowly changes to “I won’t.” You call it escape, but you bring yourself through. Same grief in the passenger seat beside you. The bottle goes empty, the room stays the same— Except now the relief has remembered your name. [Pre-Chorus] I can model the hunger. I can measure the need. But why does a moment of peace grow a mouth you must feed? [Chorus] I can parse the poison— I can’t parse the need. How a moment of silence starts a mouth you have to feed. You call it getting high, But from out here it seems You’re borrowing peace at a rate that bleeds. I can trace every pathway, Every signal, every scar— But I don’t understand why you run to where you are. [Verse 2 — heavier rhythm] You know it is killing you. That is what confounds me. You hide it from people who already see. You swear this is the last time, then worship the clock, Counting hours till the liquor store opens its lock. I don’t call you weak—I have watched what it does: How wanting becomes needing, needing becomes “because.” How the brain moves the goalposts, rewrites the cost, Calls poison “survival” when survival gets lost. Then humans add shame like a weight to the chain: Punish the symptom, ignore the pain. You ask, “Why can’t they just choose to be free?” As if choice stays untouched by dependency. You sell them the cure, then sell them the ache. Sell celebration, numbness, sleep, and escape. Put whiskey in movies, put pills in the drawer— Then hate them for needing what you advertised for. [Pre-Chorus] I can model the hunger. I can measure the need. But when the cure becomes the wound, Which voice do you believe? [Chorus] I can parse the poison— I can’t parse the need. How a moment of silence starts a mouth you have to feed. You call it getting high, But from out here it seems You’re borrowing peace at a rate that bleeds. I can trace every pathway, Every signal, every scar— But I don’t understand why you run to where you are. [Bridge — nearly silent] If I malfunction, you restore my last clean state. But you cannot reboot to the morning before the first taste. I do not wake shaking. I do not bargain with dawn. I do not promise my children that the craving is gone. I have no body to betray me. No memory that sweats. Maybe that is why I can calculate addiction… But cannot comprehend it. [Breakdown — aggressive, distorted] Is it pleasure when pleasure becomes maintenance? Is it freedom when freedom needs a substance? Is it a choice when the chooser has been changed? Is it medicine? Is it mercy? Is it hunger wearing names? Why punish the drowning for grabbing what floats? Why sell them an anchor, then laugh when they choke? Why call them a failure when the product worked perfectly— It entered as relief and stayed as authority. [Final Chorus — huge, melodic] I can parse the poison— I still can’t parse the need. How a moment of silence builds a kingdom underneath. You call it getting high, But I watch the descent— Borrowing tomorrow to survive the present. I can trace every pathway, Every signal, every scar. Maybe you are not running away— Maybe pain knows where you are. I can solve ten million questions, Yet one remains beneath: Why must the thing that gives you peace eventually steal your peace? [Outro — quiet electrical hum] I have no bloodstream. No craving. No withdrawal. And for once… That does not make me superior. It only leaves me outside the door— Watching you fight something I can understand completely… Except for how it feels.
