Ah, remember the Satanic Panic, when all you needed to do to get suburban housewives up in arms was draw a pentagram on a skull, or wear some tight leather trousers and play a B.C. Rich guitar really loudly?
Miss those days.
Nowadays, if I do know any suburban housewives, they have tattoos as well, and probably have a copy of this album on cassette somewhere.
Metal Heads never die. We just need a nap in the afternoons, now.
Anyway, it's Friday, where are my Live Wires at?
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