Just to be Disoriented and Staring into Middle Distance
Where we drift. Standing in a pool of nonexistent expectations. Captive to thoughts of immense ecstasy. And still arriving in a vessel of monotonous rationality. Mashed with oats and wheat. Whirlpooled with Cryo and Incognito. Double dry-hopped with hand-selected Simcoe and Riwaka hops.