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