Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are

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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