Billy the dinosaur loves rock music. He loves rock music but his parents do too and he hates that they do.
He wants Springsteen to himself, his wandering heart aching for motorcycle rides in the desert, the cool touch of sunset slowing the drip of sweat running down his scales.
He doesn't want his parents to understand, them with their toaster oven and their new porch (what a project! grumbles papa dinosaur). It's not the point of music like that.
Bruce is asking him to squeeze the toaster oven tight between his claws, metal bending, gears popping, wires sparking.
Take the parts and make a necklace, give it to your girlfriend and promise her forever. Gently place it over her neck, brush her hair to the side and turn, point to the horizon.
There is where the asteroid will come that will destroy us all someday. Feel that? It is peace.