LET YOUR EGO DIE

The clock is a ring on her finger
That she checks
When she's out of time.
The cigarette's a spike
In the spur of the moment
Digging in her side.
She cuts the paper with nails
And her pen is bleeding poetry.
Nervous from the sex that she got
And the wine that she spilled
On her clean, white, white sheets.
Like to see you, baby,
All torn up inside.
Girl you're dead already
So just let your ego die.
Girl you're dead already
So just let your ego die.
Die, die, die.