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