1. P.M.D. (Psycho-Maniac-Depressive)
2. Australoptecus Tecnologicus

Formação:
Rossano Polla (Vocal)
Renato da Costa (Guitarra)
Rodrigo Magalhães (Bateria)
João Marcelo (Baixo)

Ficha Técnica:
Gravado e Mixado: J.G. Studios, BH, 1990
Produção e Distribuição: Holocausto.
 

P.M.D. (PSYCHO-MANIAC-DEPRESSIVE)
Until them you where a mad as the others
Suddenly you get living apart, unnotice
And now more than never is time to make a decision
Good or bad, some people deserve a lesson.

The judment is yours
The criminals are yours
You criminals are yours
You retain the tribunal
The sentence yours.

C'mon, now, please, don't disappoint your Fans
Millions of them are watching your
Uncontrollable actions
Or crimes, even if they are suicidal,
Offensive, nocive
It's not your fault...

Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.
Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.

All right, you know, I know, you are no Jason,
Jack, M. Miers, the difference is: Style,
Charm, pose, but you don't need these Things
Courage, man, it's not time to stop...

Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.
Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.

Everybody looks different at you...
You laught and applaud
So, no one approaches...
You turn your back on them
They throw you stones...
Your tear thw rails apart
They kept fawning on you...
You go back to your world.

Anybody hasn't gone trhough
And there weren't so many friends either
Close to you in the wrong time
Just to have your acts under control.

C'mon, now, please, don't disappoint your fans
Millions of them are watching yout
Uncontrollable actions
Or crimes, even if they are suicidal
Offensive, nocive
It's not your fault...

Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.
Psycho-Maniac-Depressive-P.M.D.
 

AUSTRALOPTECUS TECNOLOGICUS
At simple touch of a button
I have all the world in front of me.
Without any effort
I scored goals, tear down troops.

My legs have forgotten how to walk
I become a slave of myself.

Like a vicious circle
The further I am the nearest I am
I'm a jungle man
I'm a urban warrior.

My legs have forgotten how to wlak
And i became a slave of myself.

Like a video
The armchair and I are the same
My arms just
Reach the command button.

All decisions are taken by computer
I don't have my own desire.

...My food...
...My drugs...
... My air...

...Chemical...
...Chemical...
...Chemical...

I'm a primitive being guited by remote control.

...I'm out of my mind...

My mind is just a terminal
Turned on to a computer
Would I be the owner of the world?
or just a simple slave?

I am in coma
Living a dull life
Not a life at all
Degradation.