Humulus lupulus

I need the most bitter Centenniel,
sitting in the closet,
for the next 11 months.

I need the most bitter Chinook,
sleeping in my mouth,
on that broken-hearted day.

I need the most bitter Galena,
thrusting through my heart,
and let the blood dry.

Ditch Amarillo, the sarcastic citrus flavor,
for I'm going to brew the most bitter beer,
on the most heartbreaking season next year.