Where the Devil Hit the Ground

There's a place somewhere East Jesus to be exact Did you ever wonder why They call it that? It's a fruitless waste Where trees spontaneously combust There's a mark on the ground Where the Devil bit the dust He left a charcoal scythe As he skidded along Crying to the heavens That he'd done no wrong After years of tears and moans He grew angry and bitter "Injustice" he cried "We'll see who's the quitter" So here we are now Ten millenia later Heeding the spot That spawned emos, men, and haters