Of Fury 2005 The wasp clicked his wings and burned. You inhaled the smoke like a fiend for collapse. Come away from the cloud, it spits acid and it rips your heart. The old feel of you slips into a stranger, and I don’t make new friends. Man is capable of reason, and chooses to stay weightless in fogs of fury. Touch down on any level for a moment, so that I can convince you how worn these excuses have gotten. The wasp stuck his poison without warning. You still stumble from the taste, and I struggle to avoid it. The sting wanes only if you feel it. With your last move clutch his wings and pull.