whiskey whimsy, words

single malt, aged seven years in oak cask barrels, only the finest in heart wrenching sorrow

blended with corn mash and subtle notes of bitterness and bile

triple carbon filtered, distilled through copper wrought from the blood of the gods themselves

no proof but one hundred percent pure and true

a pint for sipping, a gallon for erasing the memories of days gone by

a sprinkle of water to release the sour taste of forgotten freedoms

serve over ice to freeze those moments, play them over, relive the worst frozen seconds of your life

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