tanar

Love and Death and an American Guitar

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 chords
And the precise angle from which to strike

The guitar bled for about a week afterward
And the blood was 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 notes 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 a 1981 Harley Davidson!
The Harley howled in pain, the guitar howled in heat!

And I ran up the stairs to my parents' bedroom.
Mummy 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 centre of the bed, my father woke up, screaming
"Stop!" "Wait a minute!
Stop it boy!
What do ya think you're doin'!?
That's no way to treat an exspensive muscial instrument!

And I said: "God dammit daddy!
You know I love you. But you got a hell of a lot to learn about rock an' roll!".


If you can tell me who wrote this, I'll give you a big sloppy kiss, unless you're a dude.