August ninth, two thousand and sixteen When the sky was blue and the fields were green in rural Saskatchewan, A young man left home From the Red Pheasant Nation and took the day to roam Colten Boushie and his friends took their truck down to the Maymont River And when the wind blew through the aspen leaves, they seemed to shimmer
Was early evening when they were headed back Crossing bridges and crossing tracks, they got a flat tire, pulled over on a farm Belonging to a man, angry and armed Gerald Stanly took his rifle down from the wall when he saw Colten in the shed And at point blank range, shot a bullet into the back of his head
Colten's mother heard knocking that night Seven cruisers, seven rows of lights, Then they stormed into her home, said, "Ma'm, you've lost a son" Rummaged through every room like they were looking for someone Treated like a criminal, they showed no remourse While Debbie Baptiste cried for her son on the living room floor
February ninth, twenty-eighteen Stanly sat in front of an all-white jury, said the gun just went off But experts say it worked perfectly All charges dropped; acquitted, not guilty And he walked outta' that courthouse and went home to his family How good they must feel to be white in white man's country
Colten Boushie was only twenty-two, had all that livin' left to do Ceremonial fire keeper, a brother and a son Murdered in cold blood by the man who shot the gun And we must fight for the ones with their family's blood upon them Address racist politics and the ones who cause them
Some members of the white community Said 'Stanly did em' a favour, shootin' Boushie' 'Due to a rise, in young first nations crimes' Talkin' like petty theft is worth a human life The same colonial mind that murdered millions in the seventeenth century Is hiding behind the inclusive reputation of our country Its in the water, in the air, in your town and on your T.V. And so we hang the flag upside downTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
