CLiNToN DeLiVeRaNCe…

You jackasses.

I am drunk, and you are blind.

Do you still feel superior?

Poor you.

I just happen to converse by the burial place of real men.

And gents.

With-in a short distance are very old American, forgotten places.

But brush aside the leaves and the vines etc.

There is your story.

Under the phony, to the true Valentine carved out in the ancient Beechwood Trees,

There forever.

You Love for me and my love for fine whiskey.