The sun may fall into the ocean that way, but new dawn breaks best in the west, they say. The coast that provides the most in flavor, boasts a tide that the tongue will cherish and savor. In this can, a clearer stream flows, a path to pure tone is the path he doth chose. Gone are the days of this warrior’s haze, and nary are the clouds of his libraric phase. A destroyer’s been forged from the bitter and piny, bringing havoc and beauty with the wisdom of Pliny. It roars and pours past the mane over the mandible, to set the mind on a plane beyond understandable. Long sets the sun of the Destroyer’s libation, for west of Pudgemont is the tone of the new domination. Be it under a banner of stars or the cold light of day, gift your gullet with the clarity of the new Tonin’ way. A rhyme from our friend Rigs of Dad. Double dry-hopped with Citra, Centennial, Amarillo, Simcoe, and El Dorado.