Amalgamated Impulses at the Temple of Thought
They were impulses from inside. The fragments of impacts outside. That was how thought began. Filtered through the unclosed gate of your consciousness. Where I found that I simply needed less of me. Bellowed through the highest pitch of the Heavy Resin song. Mashed with oats and whirlpooled with loads of Citra Incognito and Cryo. Double dry-hopped with charges of hand-selected Oregon Citra and Strata, New Zealand Nelson, and a final zap of Yakima Valley Citra Cryo.