When we were machines

When we were machines, electric currency.
Efficient and adequate and so simple, so very simple.
We were machines, faulty circuitry.
Pull the plug, repair the bugs and cover it up.

But, somewhere in this framework lies skinned up knees and broken wires.
We all short out in due time.
Things will never be the same again.

When we were machines, sparkling and pristine.
Invincible, untouchable and so easy, so very easy.
We were machines, rusted obsolete.
A number, a statistic, a string of ones and zeros.

But, somewhere in this framework lies skinned up knees and broken wires.
We all short out in due time.
Things will never be the same again.
Somewhere in this circuitry, fried out beyond all belief.
We all die eventually.