kumbaworld
Get over it
Eagles
I turn on the tube and what do I see
A whole lotta people cryin "Donīt blame me"
They point their crooked little fingers at everybody else
Spend all their time feelin sorry for themselves
Victim of this, victim of that
Your mommaīs to thin; your daddyīs too fat

Get over it
Get over it
All this whinin, and cryin, and pitchin, a fit
Get over it, get over it.

You say you havenīt been the same since you had your little crash
But you might feel better if they gave you some cash
The more I think about it, Old Billy was right
Letīs kill all the lawyers -Kill īem tonight
You donīt want to work; you want to live like a king
But the big, bad world doesnīt owe you a thing

Get over it
Get over it
If you donīt want to play, then you might as well split
Get over it, get over it

Itīs like going to confesion every time I hear you speak
Youīre makin the most of your losin streak
Some call it sick, but I call it weak

You drag it around like a ball and chain
You wallow in the guilt; you wallow in the pain
You wave it like a flag, you wear it like a crown
Got your mind in the gutter, bringin everybody down
Complain about the present and blame it on the past
Iīd like to find your inner child and kick its little ass

Get over it
Get over it
All this bitchin and moanin and pitchin a fit
Get over it, get over it

Get over it
Get over it
Itīs gotta stop sometime, so why donīt you quit
Get over it, get over it.