The spectacles framed with tradition,
So sure on how to act and how to behave,
So sure on what path,
In what road you shall pave.
How pretentious with its knowledge,
With its history so old and mean,
It believes there is beautiful and ugly,
And there is no in between.
Society’s spectacles look through glass of judgment,
To stoop so low that it only chose
To acknowledge the Thorns
And burn the Rose.
The spectacles of society;
So tight and compact,
You may put on spectacles if you want,
But I rather wear contacts.