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