Wasted Youth

Wasted Youth
Wasted Youth

I remember everything
I remember every little thing as if it only happened yesterday
I was barely seventeen, and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar
I don't remember if it was Telecaster or 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 Telecaster or Stratocaster
But I do remember that it wasn't at all easy

It required the perfect combination of the right powerchords
And the precise angle from which to strike!

The guitar bled for about a week afterwards
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 afterwards
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 againt the body of a varsity cheerleader
Smashed it against the hood of a car
Smashed it against a 1981 Harley-Davidson
The Harley howled in pain
The guitar howled in heat

And I ran upstairs to my parents bedroom
Mommy and Daddy were sleeping quietly in the moonlight
Slowly I opened the door
Creeping into 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 you're doing?"
"Thats no way to treat an expensive musical instrument"
And I said "Goddamn it, Daddy"
"You know I love you, but you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock 'n' roll"