joyride, joyride, joyride
it started one night at a quarter to nine
he met his girl so pretty so fine
he’d be dead before the sun would shine
shot in the head for a petty crime

who ever thought that fateful day 
he would be killed that way
he lay bleeding on the ground
unarmed no weapon found

Kyle Tait’s life cut so short 
policeman’s gun ballistic report
no rights had he, the Indian boy
never again to bring his family joy

they shot him and told him to get out
raise your hands I heard them shout
14 years on the force, 3 paces way, 4 feet off course

a short life, so hard, so fast
into this drama he was cast
three bullets fired on an unarmed boy
a passenger in a joyride

joyride, joyride, joyride

Constable Sweet we’re people too
we bleed red just like you
Kyle had goals and dreams and plans
but he never lived to be a man

I went home and I hugged my son
so glad to see him he could have been the one
who died that night in a Burnaby lane
never to love or laugh again

they tried to give him CPR
arrested the others in the car
why did you kill him his girl cried
no one else to take his side

joyride, joyride, joyride