Our blood-shot eyes disguise their lies Our cries all rise up to the skies God help them when they realize Our knives arrive to end their lives They never let our city sleep They count on us to be their sheep The pens are full, the labor cheap But they’re the crops our blades will reap So now I lay me down to rest I’ll put the wires to the test When sunrays next caress the west We’ll storm the gates, resist arrest! -Excerpt from “The City that Never Sleeps”, Thinking of Summer MUSIC CREDITS PLAYERS