The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when Sad tries to bite its lip and not cry and smile and go, "No, I'm happy fo… - John Mayer

Something about the way your hair falls in your face
I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase
You tell me where to go and
Though I might leave to find it,
I'll never let your head hit the bed
Without my hand behind it.<p>And if you want love,
We'll make it.
Swim in a deep sea
Of blankets.
Take all your big plans
And break them,
This is bound to be a while.

It was so frightening at the time to be seventeen and have heart monitors hooked up to you. That was the moment the songwriter in me was born. I discovered a whole other side of me. I came home that night and started writing lyrics. I discovered it all at once: It was like opening up a lockbox, and inside was a depth that I didn't even know I had as a person, or a writer — incredible creativity and vision and neurosis, complete neurosis. They all go together in a package.

I am driving up '85 in the
Kind of morning that lasts all afternoon,
Just stuck inside the gloom.
4 more exits to my apartment but
I am tempted to keep the car in drive
And leave it all behind.<p>Because I wonder sometimes
About the outcome
Of a still verdictless life.