Outta My Head - Liz Longley

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

Because I found your letters and the

John Barton record that we spun till it was dead

I found your mix tape for the road

And two tickets for the show and your sock

Under my bed, and now I can’t get you out of my head

Memories of you seem to linger here

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

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 Barton record that we spun till it was dead

Come get your mix tape for the road

And two tickets for the show and your sock

Under my bed, come get yourself out of my head

Oh, now that you hear, 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 with it, I got two tickets to the show

And I think that we should go, and if you want

You can crash on my bed, because I’d rather you there

Than in my head, get out of my head