The burden of Guilt, the complex of Superiority. Or the other way round.

I am many things but a clean conscience

And I try scrubbing all of that blemish

Which sullies an otherwise impeccable orange board.

In case you didn't know, Orange is the new black.

And I never liked things all white.

Some tell me, gather yourself, it's alright

But I always suffer a low flying panic attack

As I negotiate the long and treacherous storyboard

That a naked conscience is.

A nuisance, in common parlance.

I go to bed with it, and wake up with it everyday

Hoping, that as the glaciers in my lacrymal glands melt

The proverbial Ganges will wipe my slate clean

No walk of atonement, no trial by combat

And it will be sunny then, like it always is in Philly

Everybody loves Raymond, everybody will love me

And that's where my mind becomes the savvy diplomat

You're the Mozart in the Jungle, it says with a gleam

You may've culled the nilgai, the odd boar or two you've felled

But remember, this is the jungle, and that's just it's way

In a world full of sinners, you're the guiding light

Afterall, who of your age in this room is still chaste 

You've broken a few promises, stolen a kiss or two

But trust me sans the thug life, it's all a massive waste