This is a song about "I want contact"

A mother’s son dead, was killed by some kids popped

It's not likely i don't know what i want

You don't mean that, you faggot

And i don't want to quit

Just to make it in this broadway lights

No contact, beer bottles, and random fights

All i want now, is death

Spending her time with him i guess

I want to live my way

That's what they'll say

Pissin' on the demons of the earth

Checked her phone contact name of edna meyers

Smiling in my face as you said that, making contract with ya contact

Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back