Hello, it's John. I know you don't "know" me, but I love you. Let me slow down a little here. You are a constant companion to me, and have been for years. I think about you and your music on a daily basis. I want to point out that I think about you and your music as separate entities. (Haha! "tities". I know you got a kick out of that, too!) You are the man that makes such wonderful songs. A man I want to know. Really know. I want to get high with you. I know, I know, EVERYONE wants to get high with Willie Nelson, but I mean it. Let's get high and order pizza. Do you want chicken wings? I bet you're a blue cheese man. I am, too. You make me cry in the shower. Let me explain. My voice is best in the shower, and when I try to sing your songs to myself I get choked up. I can only sing a little bit before my voice wobbles. I better leave the music to you! To an outsider, your just an old man that makes me cry in the shower. This simply isn't true. You've been there at my highest highs (I'm serious about getting high with you. Seriously, please consider it.) and my lowest lows. I love you. You can't die, by the way. Nope. Not happening. If you "died", I'd chase you to heaven. I'd charge those pearly gates and wait for you to finish singing "Highwaymen" with Ghandi, Joan of Arc and Hitler. After you signed a few autographs, it'd be time to come back down to Earth. We need you here. I need you here. You mean the world to me, and I can't thank you enough for all you've done.
Dear Willie Nelson
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