The sun went down with a bullet in it, red on the chrome of a stolen car. She rode in quiet from the salt-flat city, with a cigarette burning like a fallen star. Three black horses by the motel sign, one dead preacher and a bottle of rye. She said, “Tell the man with the silver tooth I kept my promise. Now he keeps mine.” High noon high noon neon high noon don’t blink. He was waiting where the train tracks ended, boots in the dust, gold cross on his chest. Had a smile like a knife in a wedding picture, had a mouth full of “baby, you should’ve left.” She said, “You sold my name for gasoline, sold my brother for a border fee. Now every ghost from here to Mercy has been walking all night behind me.” The wind went still. The lights went red. The whole town watched but nobody said Meet me at the end of mercy, where the angels fear to ride. There’s a Bible in the glovebox and a devil on my side. I don’t want your money, I don’t want your crown. I came for the sound when your kingdom hits the ground. Bang-bang, neon saint, dust on the halo, blood on the paint. Bang-bang, say my name high noon never ends the same. Now the sheriff had a camera eye, took bribes in crypto and bullets in cash. He said, “Girl, this road is private property.” She said, “Then come and take it back.” He reached for the law. She reached for the past. One moved slow. One moved fast. There was a flash like God took a photograph, then the whole damn desert laughed. The jukebox died. The moon leaned in. She wiped her hands and smiled at him. Meet me at the end of mercy, where the angels fear to ride. There’s a Bible in the glovebox and a devil on my side. I don’t want forgiveness, I don’t want a vow. I came for the sound when your empire hits the ground. Bang-bang, neon saint, dust on the halo, blood on the paint. Bang-bang, say my name high noon never ends the same. He said, “You think revenge makes you clean?” She said, “No.” He said, “You think they’ll write songs about you?” She said, “They already do.” Then she turned to the camera, like she knew we were there. Black coat moving like smoke in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she whispered low, “every saint has a price. Every sinner has a show.” Run, run, preacher man. Run, run, border man. Run, run, silver tooth. I brought hell. I brought proof. The sky cracked open. The road turned white. The town disappeared in electric light. Meet me at the end of mercy, where the angels fear to ride. There’s a Bible in the glovebox and a devil on my side. I don’t want your sorrow, I don’t want your crown. I came for the sound when your kingdom hits the ground. Meet me at the end of mercy, where the neon vultures fly. If love is just a loaded gun, then kiss the barrel goodbye. Bang-bang, neon saint, dust on the halo, blood on the paint. Bang-bang, say my name high noon never ends the same. Bang-bang, no restraint, blacktop burning, no complaint. Bang-bang, end of game high noon never ends the same. She left him there by the motel sign, with the moon on his boots and the dust in his eyes. And somewhere east of Mercy, where the power lines hum, she lit one cigarette from the morning sun.
