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 .i!mf ,klod!!!!. 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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