Bloodied Stone

I say "you can't wring blood from stone" A truth as clear as any known. Yet some will disregard the fact, And squeeze their palm with stone in hand, And blood will pour out from their fist, The blood they claim to be the stone's. In spite of all that they insist, I'll know the blood to be their own, That pours out from the cuts and nicks, Upon their palm, not from the stone. For they cannot give truth to lies, And fool me right before my eyes, And disregard a truth well known, Which is, "you can't wring blood from stone".