Nashville seems to be the place where country, music happens Kids were born with banjo’s in they’re hands Before they’re ten they learn the tricks, the picking and the slapping And dream to be the leader of the band Hundreds of them work they’re guts out lookin’ for a rainbow That never seems to visit village halls The music calls and Nashville people never learn to say no That’s why their strumming comes from subway walls There’s no room at the top, for anyone for long No room at the top, for any kind of song for long L.A. seems to be the place where high keeps getting higher Dope is found on supermarket racks, eight miles isn’t high enough for L.A.’s mess desire Since the town abolished pleasure tax Psycho music killed it self dying by the needle And paved the way for folk rock in its place The synthesizers couldn’t stay beside the country fiddle It didn’t seem to want to win the race There’s no room at the top, for anyone for long No room at the top, for any kind of song for long Well, you know, there is no room at the top not for anybody, any soul for long No room at the top for any kind of song for long No room at the top for anyone for long No room at the top for any kind of song for long