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