they shot him on princess street
left him to die with no dignity
got off the phone with his mother
the night before his murder
happy new year ma miss na miss kita
his name was chester
and his fam hid their face but they were on those streets
when i watched the down town east side gather round the scene
where they shot him 9 times
trigger happy pigs
sent to a scene where someone needed therapy
his name was chester
and someone’s been needing housing, a living wage and some dignity
more than a couple hundred bucks to get by in a city, where rent’s rising and stigma is staying despite big awareness billboards that paint the blocks they still send cops to kill a sick brown brother
stop
someone offered me a light for my candle
around a cardboard coffin and posters of his face and i couldn’t help but cry cos he looked like my brother and the man beating his drum sang out loud
“safe journey to my brother chester”
and i’ve sat in boardrooms and begged them to give him shelter and watched these specialists call him a failure heads shaking smirk in their eyes maintaining maintaining
and everyone forgot how chester was shot by the vancouver police