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
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