ON THE WIND (THE ORIGINAL SIN) July 9/84 Karl Rigelhof

A mutant strain
Of cocaine
Will seize your brain
And inflict such pain
That you will never feel again

An infectious disease
Doesn't aim to please
It brings you to your knees
Swept along the breeze
And takes you into a deep freeze

A deadly virus
Will try us
Against our trust
It will all turn to dust
Into our faces the terror is thrust

An epidemic
Makes you sick
And spreads the panic
Can it be just a trick
To make us think this is it

Pestilence is borne
On the wind
It all begins
From inside the mind
Back to another time
Where we would find
The original sin