I was packing a 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 the John Martin record
That we spun till it was dead
I found your mixtape for the road
And two tickets to a show
And your song from under my bed
And now I can't get you out of my head
Get out of my head
Memories of you start to reappear
And they're getting harder to ignore
I swear
I can't get you out of my head

I heard you singing in the kitchen
And your bare feet tapping
And 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 Martin record that we spun
And tell me that you love me
Till it was dead
Come get your mixtape for the road
And two tickets to a show
And your song from under my bed
Come get yourself out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head

Get out of my head
Oh, now that you're here
You're far more beautiful
Than I remember
Oh, remind me why
We're not together
Shouldn't we be together
Why don't you come get your letters
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 can crash on my bed
Cause I'd rather you there
Than in my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head


Get out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head