You got too much of mothers milk You got too much of all the filth And I can see when I look at you Pasty skin in the shade of blue But it ain't hard It ain't hard to see A wrong thought will be the death of me Dusty speakers and a rusty snare I sit waiting for I am the heir To whatever's in my blood Boiling black, catalyst forming in the mud But it ain't hard It ain't hard to see I'm entitled to the symphony Is there a correlation Between all my thoughts and hits I sit in contemplation until I slowly submit I was sure that I was dying at the hospital I wasn't ready, I guess I feel purpose after all But it ain't hard It ain't hard to see That sickness hibernates in me