A propos de The Mistaken Sons Of Alabama
Carried by the burning echo, in the depths of a summer dull stellar smothering ruddy alabama´s soil dust accent night bathing light, come the chards of the ancient story. Phil Anselmo, sat between the darkness and the light of an improbable desert wiskey bar, without thinking about it, spat a few drops of the pallid beer he likes on the head of a sated rattlesnake. The irritated reptile brutally rose up in three strident hisses and a wide wound flawed the soil. From the bosom of the impenetrable hole´s obscurity, a gleam appeared and Hetfield, haloed in black light, his left hand plunged in his chest slowly emerged. He ripped of a piece from his heart and the air still remembers the scream from his throat that turned the bloody piece of meat into a golden tit. This was to be known as the ultimate offering to Ruyter Suys. If you are part of those who consider that story to have nothing to do with the birth of the Mistaken Sons Of Alabama, never forget that the mistake runs deeper than you know.