Death.

I see me victims young and old
i see there faces dead and cold
the desert wind whips my face
and throws the devil into place
above there graves in total darkness
the devil picks his souls like harvest
one by one he grabs there hair
pulls them out like the ground wasn't there
i realize my purpose in life
its not to have children or a wife
its to do the bidding of the dark lord
watch collage students try some meth
then convulse on the floor until their death
there face pulled into a soulless mold
and to see that they will never grow old
that is my purpose that is my will
i can never go over the sacred hill...