Or “How To Move To Oregon Without Really Trying”
Dear friend Hope Swann Is Out Of The Hospital!
[Verse 1]
Hope Swann came back from the brink again
Heart cracked open, stitched with thread
Triple bypass, hospital blues
Still outspits fate with a wicked aim, too
White coats shaking their careful heads
She cracked a joke, said “Not dead yet”
IV pole like a dance-floor mic
Life of the party on borrowed time
[Chorus]
She’s feral and free, don’t fence her in
Kick-ass pooper scooper with a crooked grin
Collector of things the world forgot
A few flamingos short of a flamboyance lot
But she’s got heart — hell, extra parts
Steel-willed laughter and scavenger art
If survival’s a sport, she’s still in the lead
A few flamingos short… just what we need
[Verse 2]
She finds lost keys and busted dreams
Bent nails, feathers, broken wings
Turns junkyard prayers into shrine-bound truth
Makes beauty outta what we refuse
Spits with precision, don’t stand too near
That aim’s been sharpened over years
Humor like gravel, grace like rust
Trust her once — you always trust
[Chorus]
She’s feral and free, don’t polish her shine
Heart-surgeon scars look damn near fine
She laughs at pain, flips death the bird
A few flamingos short of the normal herd
But she’s got grit where others stall
When the lights go out, she throws a ball
If living’s an art, she bleeds it true
A few flamingos short — and gloriously so, too
[Bridge]
They tried to slow her, tried to mend
But Hope don’t end — she bends, then bends again
If the reaper knocks, he better bring wine
She’ll steal his watch and waste his time
[Verse 3]
Open-heart scars like a roadmap home
Every line says “Still my own”
Sculptor of chaos, writer of mess
Finder of things we never confess
If courage had a laugh-track sound
It’d be hers, echoing round and round
Some folks fade quiet, some go soft
Hope goes louder — and flips you off
[Final Chorus]
She’s feral and free, hospital or bar
Still the brightest wrecking star
Artist, finder, party spark
Lighting up the wild and dark
So here’s to Hope and her patched-up heart
Still kicking ass, still making art
A few flamingos short of a flamboyance spree
But damn it all — that’s the best kind of free
[Outro]
Raise your glass, don’t count the cost
To the things she’s found and the ones she’s lost
If you’re looking for proof that life goes on
Just follow the feathers…
Hope Swann