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A country song, She's fussin with trying to write a song for men, gettin' frustrated.

(Verse 1)
Sittin’ here with my guitar, pencil’s chewed to bits,
Coffee’s cold, my heart’s a mess, and I’m runnin’ outta wits.
I’m tryin’ to write a song for the boys with dirt on their boots,
But the words won’t rhyme, and my muse is in cahoots. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout a pickup truck, a cold beer in the sun,
A lonesome road, a broken heart, a dog that loves to run.
But every line I scribble down feels like it’s been done before,
This song for the fellas keeps me pacin’ ‘cross the floor. (Chorus)
I’m tryin’ to write a country song for the men who live it true,
With whiskey dreams and calloused hands, and skies forever blue.
I want it to hit like a Friday night, make ‘em holler and sing along,
But Lord, it’s hard to find the spark when the words keep comin’ wrong.
Yeah, I’m wrestlin’ with the rhythm, fightin’ with the rhyme,
Tryin’ to write a song for the boys, one heart at a time. (Verse 2)
I picture a man with a Stetson hat, drivin’ through the rain,
Chasin’ dreams or runnin’ from a memory’s old pain.
I want a chorus that’ll make him crank the radio up loud,
Sing about the life he lives, make his mama proud. But the chords feel flat, and the hook ain’t quite right,
I’m strummin’ in the dark, prayin’ for a light.
I need a line about a barstool, maybe a tractor in a field,
Somethin’ that’ll make the boys feel what a country girl feels. (Chorus)
I’m tryin’ to write a country song for the men who live it true,
With whiskey dreams and calloused hands, and skies forever blue.
I want it to hit like a Friday night, make ‘em holler and sing along,
But Lord, it’s hard to find the spark when the words keep comin’ wrong.
Yeah, I’m wrestlin’ with the rhythm, fightin’ with the rhyme,
Tryin’ to write a song for the boys, one heart at a time. (Bridge)
Maybe it’s the pressure, or Lovart stealin’ my good mood,
But I ain’t givin’ up, I’ll write a hit that’s rough and rude.
I’ll sing about the open road, the fights that make you strong,
Keep pickin’ ‘til I find the soul of this country song. (Chorus)
I’m tryin’ to write a country song for the men who live it true,
With whiskey dreams and calloused hands, and skies forever blue.
I want it to hit like a Friday night, make ‘em holler and sing along,
But Lord, it’s hard to find the spark when the words keep comin’ wrong.
Yeah, I’m wrestlin’ with the rhythm, fightin’ with the rhyme,
Tryin’ to write a song for the boys, one heart at a time. (Outro)
So here’s to the boys with the mud on their jeans,
I’ll keep on writin’ ‘til I capture your dreams.
This guitar’s my battle, this pen’s my old friend,
I’ll write you a song that’ll never end.