Behold the finest crystal glass,
Found throughout the land,
And fill it with the purest splash,
Obtainable by man.
Then add one drop
Of crimson blood.
The purity is lost.
With truth it is,
When lies do flood,
It's certitude,
The cost,
The virtue of the guileless word,
Is timeless in it's worth,
Yet, rarely is it ever heard,
Few care to give it birth.