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 zoot, dark and rich, like wild berrys 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 agains 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 Mummy and Daddy were sleeping 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 centre of the bed My father woke up, screaming "STOP" "Wait a minute, stop it boy. What do you think your doing?" "Thats 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"