Dead Men Don’t Beg

You came talking loud in my direction, Flashing steel like it meant something. Hands shaking but your mouth kept running — That’s the first mistake of a dying man.

I don’t shout, I don’t chase, I just stand here in my place. Wind cuts sharp across your skin, You already know how this ends.

There’s a line between brave and blind, And you stepped across mine.

Dead men don’t beg. Dead men don’t pray. They don’t bargain with the dark When it’s already too late. No tears left to shed, No words left to say. When the dust settles red — Dead men don’t beg.

Saloon doors still swinging slow, Nobody moves, they all just know. This town’s seen this scene before — One walks out, one hits the floor.

You talk about mercy like it’s cheap, Like it grows wild or runs deep. But mercy’s earned, not borrowed breath — And you ain’t earned it yet.

You can whisper to the sky above, Or curse my name instead — But once that hammer falls back…

Dead men don’t beg. Dead men don’t plead. They don’t cry to heaven When they chose their speed. No fear in my head, No tremble in my aim. When the smoke turns red — Dead men don’t beg.

Tick. Boot scrape. Breath held. One mistake.

Dead men don’t beg. Dead men don’t rise. They don’t look for forgiveness In another man’s eyes. No crown for the brave, No stone for the fake. When the trigger’s said what it said — Dead men don’t beg.

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