text: I stood stone-like at midnight
  Suspended in my masquerade
  I combed my hair til it was just right
  And commanded the night brigade
  I was open to pain and crossed by the rain
  And I walked on a crooked crutch
  I strolled all alone through a fallout zone
  And came out with my soul untouched
  I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd
  But when they said, Sit down, I stood up
  Ooh, growin up
  Well, the flag of piracy flew from my mast
  And my sails were set wing to wing
  I had a jukebox graduate for first mate
  She couldnt sail but she sure could sing
  I pushed B-52 and bombed them with the blues
  With my gear set stubborn on standing
  I broke all the rules
  Strafed my old high school
  Never once gave thought to landing
  I hid in the clouded warmth of the crowd
  But when they said, Come down, I threw up
  Ooh, growin up
  Ive never held an honest job in my entire life. Ive never done any hard labor. Ive never worked nine to five. Ive never worked five days a week until right now. I dont like it. Ive never seen the inside of a factory and yet its all Ive ever written about. Standing before you is a man who has become wildly and absurdly successful writing about something of which he has had - absolutely no personal experience. I made it all up. Thats how good I am. Now how, Im sure youre wondering how did this great miracle come to pass? Well, in the beginning, there was a great darkness upon the waters, as a child, it was Christmas, your birthday, summer vacation, but the rest of life was a lifeless sucking black hole. A lifeless sucking black hole of homework, church, school, homework, church, school, homework, church, school, green beans, green beans, fucking green beans. But then, then a blinding flash of sanctified light, a human being, and just a kid, just a kid from the southern sticks, but uh, new kind of man, he split the world in two, and suddenly, a new world existed. The one below your belt. And above your heart. Sunday night in 1956 at 39 and a half Institute Street into a Coldwater flat and into the mind of a seven year old kid, the revolution had been televised! Right under the noses of the powers that be, who if theyd have known what was actually happening and the great changes, the changes that were about to come, they wouldve shut this shit down, or more likely, signed it up real quick, because we the unwatched, the invisible, the powerless, the kids, would want more. Now more life, more love, and more sex, and more hope, and more truth, and more power, and more soul, and most of all, more rock n roll. So I sat with my mom, my little seven year old mind on fire, staring into a blue tube as fun happened. Fun, the real kind. The joyful, life-affirming, hip-shaking, ass-quaking, guitar-playing, mind and heart-changing, race-challenging, soul-lifting bliss of a freer existence. A freer existence exploded into unsuspecting homes all across America, on a regular Sunday night. The world had fucking changed. In an instant. In a sweating wet orgasm of fun. And all you needed to do to get a taste of it, was to risk being your true self. Because the rock n roll genie had been let out of the bottle and he told us that if you were born in the U.S.A., my fellow citizens, these feelings, these freedoms, this fun, was your birth right. I listened, I believed, and I heard a mighty call to action. So, I studied my new hero. And I noted hes got the same two arms, two legs, two eyes that I got. Yes, hes a human Adonis, and Im - pathetically creepy. But Ill figure that part out, alright. The one thing he had that I didnt have was strapped around his waist. It was the guitar. The guitar, or as my father had christened it, That fucking guitar. But that fucking guitar was the key. It was the sword in the stone, it was the staff of righteousness, and they sell em at Western Auto downtown for 25 dollars! So I begged and I pleaded with my mother just to rent me, cause we couldnt afford to buy a guitar from Mike Deals Music School on South Street. One Saturday afternoon, I brought it home. And I sat on the living room couch. And I unlatched its full alligator case, and I slowly opened it up. And up from the green velvet lining came the sweet smell of a cherrywood cocktail of power, pleasure, salvation, and dreams and dreams and dreams. So I took lessons, dedicatedly, I took lessons for two solid weeks, and I quit. It was too fuckin hard. Learning the guitar, not only was it fucking hard, but the lessons were boring, just give me the three magic chords please! And let me twist! And shout. But I was a seven year old kid and my hands barely fit around the neck and I couldnt waste my mothers hard-earned cash week after week so very shortly I knew, that back it was gonna have to go. But the morning before I returned it, I strapped it on one more time. I took it out into the backyard where the neighborhood kids were. And I put on my first show. Woo! I slapped it. I shook it. I shouted. I sang voodoo nonsense. I burned a hole in the grass. I shook my little seven year old ass, woo! Most importantly, I posed with it. Thats the shit! I danced with it, I did everything but play it. I couldnt do that. I sucked so bad and the kids laughed and laughed at my silly ass. And we brought it back that afternoon. Ridin back home, with my mom in the car, sat in the backseat and I was quiet, was thinking, I was a little disappointed, in myself. But somewhere inside, somewhere inside I knew that for a moment, just a moment, in front of those kids in that backyard, I smelled blood
  I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere
  You know its really hard to hold your breath
  I swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared
  I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress
  My feet they finally took root in the earth
  But I got me a nice little place in the stars
  I swear I found the key to the universe
  In the engine of an old parked car
  I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd
  But when they said, Sit down, I stood up
  Ooh, growin up
  Ooh, growin up
  And it was bye-bye New Jersey! Im gonna be airborne!