[Intro] (garden gate creak • distant bells • metal steps) Knock… knock. I’m home. [Verse 1] Cross Street ends where the roses rot, Dust on the sill, and the kettle’s cold. Kids dare each other—then they don’t, When my shadow moves in the window’s mold. They call me “witch” like it’s an easy word, But the garden heard what the city ignored. [Pre-Chorus] (tight beat + soft fiddle) “Thank you” means mind your own business, “Goodbye” means don’t come close. I built a language out of thorns So no one sees where it hurts the most. [Chorus] I’m the black swan in the smog, still dancing in rust, With a crown made of whispers and a heart made of “must.” Hear my steps—iron prayer, grinding through the street, Every clank is a promise I refuse to retreat. You want a monster? Fine—then look me in the eye: I’ll turn your pity into silence, let it petrify. Black swan in the smog… I’m alive. I’m alive. [Verse 2] I was sunshine once—fast, fearless, bright, A rising star they couldn’t ignore. Youngest gold in the Uluru lights— Now my medal feels like a closed door. They kept the record, lost the girl, And left me limping through a changed world. [Pre-Chorus 2] (pipes swell, then drop) Peace was a ribbon, pulled too tight— It snapped and took my name. Family, dreams, home… gone overnight, And a “custom prosthesis” to carry the shame. [Chorus] I’m the black swan in the smog, still dancing in rust, With a crown made of whispers and a heart made of “must.” Hear my steps—iron prayer, grinding through the street, Every clank is a promise I refuse to retreat. You want a monster? Fine—then look me in the eye: I’ll turn your pity into silence, let it petrify. Black swan in the smog… I’m alive. I’m alive. [Bridge] (nearly silent • voice close • metal rhythm like a heartbeat) They ask, “Why can’t witchery heal your leg?” Like magic owes me mercy. I call it ugly… awkward… a fire poker— But it’s mine. And it moves when I say so. So if you see me soften, don’t you flinch— Kindness is just courage in disguise. Let me be sharp. Let me survive. [Final Chorus] (full swell • choir • bigger drums) I’m the black swan in the smog, and the roses will bloom, Through London’s grey lungs, through the locked-up room. Hear my steps—iron prayer, writing truth in the street, Every clank is a comeback, every breath is a beat. If you knock at my gate, I might open—just a crack, Not for your pity… but the light you bring back. Black swan in the smog… Still dancing. Still dancing. [Outro] (fiddle fades • waves of air • one last metal step) Slán… Don’t call me “witch.” Call me Willow.
