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Electric Guitar, blazing star,
How I’ve wondered who you are.
Could you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?
You have no ego, no false pride, the cross where Ziggy was crucified.
Yet bewitching siren, for your screaming sound, some haunted sailors have run aground.
The god of rock music stands on high, demanding human sacrifice.
So pray that the man whose sweaty fingers run, along your fretboard to the sun,
With discipline like the warrior brave, will not follow Icarus to watery grave.
Electric guitar, bleeding star,
I always wanted to know who you are.
Could you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?
Those men in black from behind their masks, they seek to prevent your heroic task.
Full of hatred and hypocrisy, they loathe your primitive energy.
They long to ban your wild sensuality, in the name of keeping our country free.
So I had to journey deep into my soul, to know why God so loves rock and roll.
Sacred rock and roll, your wine is so new, I almost failed to recognize you.
Powder pushers hunt in gangs, vampire groupies bear their fangs.
Willing victims cross the floor, the vampire groupies scream for more.
Electric guitar, guiding star,
Could I ever know truly who you are?
Will you rise up from the darkest night,
To lead a lost generation to the light?