| I remember everything!
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| I remember every little thing as if it only happened 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 right power chords
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| And the precise angle from which to strike!
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| The guitar bled for about a week afterwards
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| And the blood was zoot, 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 afterwards
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| 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
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| And I smashed it against the wall
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| I smashed it against the floor
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| I smashed it againt the body of a varsity cheerleader
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| Smashed it against the hood of a car
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| 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 upstairs to my parents bedroom
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| Mummy and Daddy were sleeping quietly in the moonlight
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| Slowly I opened the door
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| Creeping into the shadows 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 center of
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| the bed
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| My father woke up, screaming «STOP!»
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| «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 damn it, Daddy!»
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| «You know I love you, but you’ve got a hell of a lot to learn about Rock 'n'
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| Roll!» |