Wasted youth
wasted youth
i remember everything!
i remember everything little thing, as if it happened yesterday
i was barely seventeen, and i once killed a boy with a fender guitar
i don't remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster
but i do remember that it had a heart of chrome, and a voice like a horny angel
i don't remember if it was a telecaster or a stratocaster
but i do remember that it wasn't at all easy
It required the perfect combanation of the right power chords
and the percise angel from which to strike!
The guitar bled for about a week afterwords
and the blood was zoot, dark and rich, like wild berrys
the blood of the guitar was chuck berry red
the guitar bled for about a week afterwords
but it rung out beautifly
and i was able to play notes that i had never even heard before
So i took my guitar
and i smashed it aganist the wall
i smashed it aganist the floor
i smashed it aganist the body of a varisty cheerleader
smashed it aganist the hood of a car
smasned it aganist a 1981 harley-davaidson
the harley howled in pain
the guitar howled in heat
And i ran up the stairs to my parents bedroom
mommy and daddy were sleeping in the moonlight
slowly i opened the door
creeping in the shadows right up to the foot of their bed
i raised the guitar high above my head
and just as i was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the center of the bed
my father woke up, screaming "stop!"
"wait a minute. stop it boy. what do you think your doing?"
"that's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument"
and i said, "god damn it daddy,"
"you know i love you, but you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock n' roll"