Get Over It

You used to be my painkiller
And I used to be your Arthur Miller
But now I’m just the dead salesmen
And I’m waiting around for the feel-good mailman

So I can get underground
Get lost
Get found
Get over it

Now I’m not one to work through it
I called in sick and I’m sticking to it
I’m off the tracks, but I’m hitting rails, man

I’m waiting around for the feel good mail man

We got locked outside

Because I brought the bad key
You said it was gonna rain
You could feel it in your bad knee
I still have the pills from when you broke your leg
But you don’t live here anymore so I don’t
Even have to beg