I'll bet she's beautiful, that girl he talks about, and she's got everything that I have to live without... He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar, the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart. He's the song in the car I keep singing; don't know why I do.

you're an expert at sorry and keeping the lines blurry

The music industry itself is changing so quickly, that everything new, like Spotify, all feels to me a bit like a grand experiment. And I’m not willing to contribute my life’s work to an experiment that I don’t feel fairly compensates the writers, producers, artists, and creators of this music. And I just don’t agree with perpetuating the perception that music has no value and should be free.

The past is the past. Don't let it kill you.

Loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street; faster than the winds, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly.

I've apparently been the victim of growing up, which apparently happens to all of us at one point or another

I like shirts and sweaters that fall off the shoulder or plaid button-ups.