Love and Death and an American Guitar

I remember everything
 I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday
 I was barely 17 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 powerchords
 and the precise angle from which to strike
 The guitar bled for about a week afterwards and the blood was
 ooh...
 dark and rich like wild berries
 The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red
 The guitar bled for about a week afterwards and 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
 I smashed it against the hood of a car
 I smashed it against a 1981-Harley Davidson
 The Harley howled in pain, the guitar howled in heat!
 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 the bed
 I raised my 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 you're 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 got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll"