Witness the spectacle in the blue spectacles.
The woman who wanders over the bridge, with her heart held tight in her outstretched hands.
She's keeping it safe, protection guaranteed,  keeping her own counsel.
Her hands are cold, she must keep her heart warm.
She needs to be reborn.
Every one laughs at her, an echo in unison.
She is precious, so precious.
Those glasses are breaking, so she cannot see.
In front of her nose, not the wood for the trees.
You know it's reported that, "men don't make passes at girls that wear glasses".
She needs to ***** in the dark, for she can barely see.
Blinded by fear, the only prince she thought she found before, was but, the prince of darkness.
(C) Livvi