the (already) goal of next year is to not get stabbed (again)

chicks talking to cars
as I bleed good blood. 

I ain't got nothing left to give,
nothing to lose. 

the sword in my side
is also shooting my heart with rusty bullets. 

I will meet you at the post office,
and kill a phone call, but I will/won't let you down. 

crack my neck,
eat a snake. 

I hurt, too,
and I don't have a Kentucky rocking chair. 

so come on, love
just twist the blade, kill me and get it over with.