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 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 combination of the right power cords and the precise angle from which to strike
The guitar bled for about a week afterward
And the blood was zoot, 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 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
Smashed it against the hood of a car
Smashed it against the 1981 Harley Davidson
The Harley howled in pain
The guitar howled in heat
And I ran up the stairs to my parent’s bedroom
Mummy and daddy where 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 D’YA THINK YA DOING
THATS NO WAY TO TREAT AN EXPENSIVE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT”
And I said
“GOD DAMMIT DADDY
You know I love you
BUT YOU GOT A HELL OF A LOT TO LEARN ABOUT ROCK AND ROLL