Can't listen to Ruston Can't listen to Maren It's gettin' depressin' riding round in this car I try to tell you a story Baby you just ignore me Unless I'm pattin' your back Callin' all the rest hacks And you're the brightest star I'm a little tired of the measuring stick If I wasn't in love I'd call you kind of a dick There's a mental list of those who did you wrong But I can't keep track cause it's so damn long I can't wait to fly myself back to LA I'll singing out to Dying Star' night and day Nashville's not as cool as it used to be Well maybe it's your broken air conditioning You say it's survival That's got you actin' like a child You say it's your ex-wife Who stole away your best life Ya say your dad has got no taste And your sister is basic But you scoop up their handouts While making fun of their Asics And you're always the victim Of some much bigger system And this car's getting hotter As your singing gets louder Could we take a break and listen to the radio? I've heard this song twenty-five times in a row And baby, it's a demo from a decade ago This Honda seems to suck the life right out of me Or maybe it's your broken air-conditioning I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm so tired I'm a little tired of the measuring stick If I wasn't in love I'd call you kind of a dick I'm a little tired of the broken shower, of the IRS Of the lack of sex I'm so tired I can't get out of bed But you're sure it's my fault, it's all in my head I can't wait to fly myself back to LA I'll be singing Bummin' Cigarettes' the whole way Nashville's not as cool as it used to be Maybe it's your broken air conditioning