young girl travelling late at night could pay the price, taped up and sliced 
In the Nevada desert God ain’t present, pray for your life 
That’s what he told her as the seatbelt clicked and the car peeled out 
She’s creeped out but they’re moving too fast to leap out 
He peeped out her hitching on the side of the highway 
He pulled over, “Hey, looks like you’re going my way.” 
pretty young thing, probably in her early twenties 
He was closer to fifty playing some song by Eddie Money 
Told her, “Relax, this ain’t the first time I’ve done this. 
I’ll just make it hurt more if you try [bad word]  [bad word] .” 
The radio was silent, almost seemed unbelievable 
You could hear the rocks from the road spray under the vehicle 
And he never would’ve guessed, how could he have guessed? 
He felt a sharp pain as the knife entered his chest 
He slammed on the brakes, looked up at her face 
She seemed turned on with blood all over the place 
She straddled on his lap, pulled the knife back 
The flood of warm blood then his body relaxed 
Cause when a killer kills a killer and reality’s [bad word] 
The victim’s not a victim and the hunter is the hunted
 [bad word] 
Did you ever know me? I don’t think so 
Will you ever know me? I don’t think so 
But I love what you make me do 
I love what you make me do 
I love what you make me do

Did you ever know me? I don’t think so 
Will you ever know me? I don’t think so 
But I love what you make me do 
I love what you make me do 
I love what you make me do 

Joey was a step-brother, real sick little [bad word] 
Snuck inside her room to touch her, “Kill you if you tell your mother.” 
Held her underneath the covers 
Covered up her mouth to smother any noise 
Even let his [bad word] and [bad word] her 
And little devil boys taking turns 
You can almost hear the flames flicker as their souls burn 
And he did it to conquer, told her no one wants her 
Had no idea he was creating a monster 
Tears mixed with blood mixed with sweat mixed with [bad word] 
Is a list of ingredients to grow your own demon 
Then late one night out the window she crept 
And burned down the house while everybody slept 
Then years passed by and the body count rised 
But no one suspects the girl with them real pretty eyes 
Till on a lonely stretch of highway in the desert 
You can hear her singing like an old record
 [bad word] 

This is dedicated to those tormented souls.