Mario, The Offender

Innocence, in a sense, is a security
You hop the fence to the land of opportunity
Through city streets or mountains of obscurity
With every step you’re shaking with identity
Petulance is alive in the community
You jump the gun at the promise of prosperity
And on the run in the shadow of identity
Your self is broken glass in the menagerie
Hell no. You can’t beat that. Just look in the mirror
What you see. Well that’s not me
They call him Bartolomeo, but he’s actually Jon
They say he’s got things for sale. Now won’t you give me one
A cold day in winter can’t hide it
A warm day in summer won’t make you come down
The bluebirds are breaking the window
Then drown the sea
The offender Mario. He’s blowing shit on my lawn
And I want to kill hee-o. I’m want to give him some
Everyone is somebody or so it seems
Like rabbits on the run or maybe you and me
In your shoes, you’re planning your prosperity
But nothing seems to work the way it’s supposed to be
Hell no. You can’t beat that. Just look in the mirror
What you see. Well that’s not me