Wasted Youth

I remember everything!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only 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 Startocaster
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 Startocaster
But I do remember that it wasn't at all easy
It required the perfect combination of the correct power chords
And the precise angle from which to strike
The guitar bled for a week afterward and the blood was - ooh -
Dark and rich like wild berries
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red
The guitar bled for about a week afterward but it rung out beautifully
And I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before
So I took my guitar and I smashed it against the wall
I smashed it against the floor
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader
I smashed it against the hood of a car
I smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson
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 centre of
the bed
My father woke up screaming:
Stop! Wait a minute! Stop it boy! What do you think you're doing?
That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!
And I said God dammit Daddy! You know I love you
But you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll!