Never Miss

 Snow runs red where the bullet fell,

Echoes ring like a warning bell.
In the northern dark, there’s no escape,
Canadians hunt with a cold, clean slate.

Chorus
Never miss the shot, blood runs hot,
Cold steel hands, they take their lot.
Through the frost where the wanted rot,
Canadians never miss the shot.

Verse 2
Tracks in the pines where the shadows crawl,
Names carved deep on the cabin wall.
One by one, the hunted drop,
Justice rains and it won’t be stopped.

Chorus
Never miss the shot, eyes like flame,
Marking the guilty, calling their name.
Through the smoke when the hammer drops,
Canadians never miss the shot.

Bridge
It’s not mercy, it’s the northern law,
What you break, they’ll make you draw.
Blood in the snow, bodies forgot,
They ride on, never miss the shot.

Final Chorus
Never miss the shot, hearts turn black,
Once they’re hunting, there’s no turning back.
Through the silence, through the rot,
Canadians never miss the shot.

“Nothing About It”

They said,
"Don’t make it about race."
As the chalk outlines spoke louder
than our names,
and sirens carved silence into our streets
like it was justice
sharpened to a blade.

They said,
"It’s just a few bad apples,"
while the orchard rotted root to leaf,
and uniforms became armor
against truth,
not against crime.

They said,
"You should’ve complied."
As knees crushed necks
and bullets answered
questions never asked.
Compliance was a coffin,
and even silence
was too loud.

They said,
"Why are you so angry?"
But never asked what it’s like
to be hunted in your own skin,
to teach your children
how not to die
in the presence of a badge.

They said,
"Don’t protest like that."
As if mourning
needs permission.
As if grief must wear a smile
to be heard.

They said,
"There’s nothing wrong."
While bodies fall,
names become hashtags,
and the blindfold of Lady Justice
slips conveniently
to one side.

They said,
"Don’t make it about race."
But racism made it
about everything—
and they did nothing
about it.