[Spoken/Screamed: Jim Steinman]I remember everythingI remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterdayI was barely 17, and I once killed a boy with a fender guitarI don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a StratocasterBut I do remember that it had a heart of chromeAnd a voice like a horny angelI don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a StratocasterBut I do rememberThat it wasn't at all easyIt required the perfect combination of the right power-chordsAnd the precise angle from which to strikeThe guitar bled for about a week afterward and the blood was-Ooh...Dark and rich like wild berriesThe blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry redThe guitar bled for about a week afterward but it rung out beautifullyAnd I was able to play notes that I had never even heard beforeSo I took my guitar and I smashed it against the wallI smashed it against the floorI smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleaderSmashed it against the hood of a carSmashed it against a 1981-Harley DavidsonThe Harley howled in pain, the guitar howled in heatAnd I ran up the stairs to my parent's bedroomMommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlightSlowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows right up to the foot of their bedI raised the guitar high above my headAnd just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the center of the bedMy father woke up screaming"Stop...wait a minute..stop it, boyWhat 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 youBut you got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll"
