A junkies will, the junkies might, will always cause him to take one more flight. He goes into his secret room and reaches for his hidden spoon. He inlets the venom in his veins letting slip by a few more days. Mind right and pain forgotten he lets the flight take him over mountains. Time after time he does it again, always going there and back again. This time his trip is quick and in the night the junkie see's no more light. For the dose was far to much and now the junkie turns to dust.