I was packing to move to New York City
You were the last thing I thought I'd find
Miles and miles away, you should be gone now
But our years together play like movies in my mind
'Cause I found your letters
And that John Martyn record
That we spun 'til it was dead
I found your mixtape for the road
And two tickets to a show
And your sock from under my bed
And now I can't get you outta my head
Get out of my head
Memories of you start to reappear
And they're getting harder to ignore
I swear I heard you singing in the kitchen
And your bare feet tapping the rhythm on the floor
And I thought I saw you walking through that door
Oh, I wish you'd walk through that door
Why don't you come get your letters
And that John Martyn record
That we spun 'til it was dead?
Come get your mixtape for the road
And two tickets to a show
And your sock from under my bed
Come get yourself outta my head
(Get out of my head, babe)
Get outta my head
(Get outta my head, babe)
Oh, now that you're here
You're far more beautiful than I remembered
Oh, remind me why we're not together
Shouldn't we be together?
Why don't you come get your letters?
And we'll spin some records
Then go out and paint the town red
I've got two tickets to a show
And I think that we should go
And if you want, you could crash on my bed
'Cause I'd rather you there than in my head
(Get outta my head, babe)
Get outta my head
(Get outta my head, babe)
Get outta my head
(Get outta my head)
Get outta my head, oh-ooh
