I got a message on my phone Some chick from Rolling Stone said "We'd like to do an interview And take a few pictures of you" Well, my label says I'm number one Hotter than the Dickens son But you need to get where the action is If you wanna be a superstar, kid So I, I packed my bags and caught a plane out to L.A. And I rented me a palace down by the sea A small town boy to a California king I rolled up in my limousine Paparazzi on the scene I'm supposed to open up the show I'm nominated five times you know I was drowning in accolades Rescued by a righteous babe Her bodyguards got us out of the crowd Into the hills an' up to the clouds And through the gates and golden doors and onto her bed Overlookin' the boulevard of broken dreams A small town boy to a California king Well, things out here move pretty fast There ain't much that's built to last And you're only as good as your last song And the moment that you stop to rest They'll steal your throne So I made the rounds religiously I wore my crown respectfully Rubbin' elbows and egos and such And man, I never felt so outta touch I was losin' sight of what was true Longin' for the life I knew Them honeysuckle flowers and country roads And good ol' Dixieland between my toes So I, I packed my guitar and hopped a train And made my escape And I took only good memories home with me This small town boy's goin' back to Tennessee Oh, oh, oh, California king just ain't me, no, no