[All spoken by Jim Steinman]
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I remember everything!
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I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday.
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I was barely seventeen and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar
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I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster,
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but I do remember that it had a heart of chrome and a voice like a horny angel!
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I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster,
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but I do remember that it wasn't at all easy.
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It required the perfect combination of the correct power chords,
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and the precise angle from which to strike.
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The guitar bled for a week afterward and the blood was - ooh -
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dark and rich like wild berries.
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The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red.
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The guitar bled for about a week afterward but it rung out beautifully,
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and I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before.
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So, I took my guitar and I smashed it against the wall,
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I smashed it against the floor,
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I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader,
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I smashed it against the hood of a car,
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I smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson.
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The Harley howled in pain.
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The guitar howled in heat.
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And I ran up the stairs to my parents' bedroom.
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Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlight.
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Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows,
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right up to the foot of their bed.
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I raised the guitar high above my head,
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and just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the centre of the bed,
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my father woke up screaming:
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"Stop! Wait a minute! Stop it boy! What do you think you're doing?
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That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!"
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And I said "God dammit Daddy! You know I love you,
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but you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll!"
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Wasted Youth
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| Meat Loaf |
