She's sitting at a stoplight waiting.
She's tapping on her dashboard contemplating gridlock.
The green lights don't mean anything here.
L.A. has never seen a shortage
Of imported protégées to sort, order, and trade on:
A freeway to subordination.
Somebody's always the toast of a small town.
You show up with dreams that burn down when it turns out
You're nobody somewhere.
Yeah, you're nobody somewhere.
She's sitting at an empty table
Abandoned by the major labels and attendants.
She drinks their flat champagne with her friends.
Last call and now the panic sets in.
Which after-party will they get in all depends on
Defending that campaign for a friend or a friend of a friend.
Fame is a rain cloud you follow around
But the raindrops all dry up when they touch the ground
When you're nobody somewhere.
Yeah, you're nobody somewhere.
You know 'em just barely but name-drop 'em all
And I'll bet that they rarely pick up when you call
When you're nobody somewhere.
Yeah, you're nobody somewhere.
They say the neon lights are brighter there.
They say there's always music in the air
But they don't care if static's playing on the radio
'Cause even the back of a packed display case
Is attractive to somebody nobody knows.
So welcome to somewhere, where fame is eroding
The borders and our population's exploding.
You're nobody somewhere.
Yeah, you're nobody somewhere
And nobody knows.
Nobody somewhere.
Nobody knows.