Well, I rode for days across this neon wasteland
On a horse with no logo and no brand
And I heard the crude machines in conversation
In a language only they can understand
And I've seen my plastic cousins on their funeral pyres
And idiots or phantoms walking high without whys
And in a time when skin was made of skin
There was a song they used to sing
And I've heard my makers play it 'round the fire
Oh, we are only human
And our follies are the feathers in our beds
All others sleeping fitfully, just dreaming dreams of destiny
Not realizin' we're already dead
(Not realizin' we're already dead)
Well, I rode for days across the solar system
A traveler is how I was designed
Behind my circuitry, there burns a question
"Am I the first or last one of my kind?"
And I'd ask my plastic cousins, but they're known to be liars
Or the Great Creator, though he's long since retired
And in the time when skin was paper-thin
There was a song they used to sing
And I've heard my makers play it 'round the fire
Oh, we are only human
And our follies are the feathers in our beds
All just sleeping gracefully on the edge of a better place to be
Not realizin' we're already dead
(We are only human)
(And our follies are the feathers in our beds)
(All just sleeping faithfully, just dreaming dream of destiny)
(Not realizing we're already dead)
Not realizing we're already dead
