Silver Lining
Hip-Hop/Rap
Silver Liningは、アルバム『{albumName}』の一部として2026年2月23日にNovaによりリリースされましたEmpire of One
メロディック度
楽曲がどれだけ明確で覚えやすいメロディを持ち、はっきりとした音楽パターンに沿っているかを示します。メロディック度が高い楽曲は、わかりやすく印象に残る楽器やボーカルラインが特徴です。
アコースティック度
楽曲が、電子楽器やデジタル合成音の代わりに、どの程度アコースティック楽器(ピアノ、ギター、バイオリン、ドラム、サックスなど)に依存しているかを示します。
ヴァランス
楽曲のハーモニーやリズムによって伝わる音楽的なポジティブ度や感情的トーンを示します。値が高いほど幸福感、興奮、陶酔などの感情を表し、低いほど悲しみ、怒り、憂鬱などの感情を表します。
ダンサビリティ
テンポの安定性、リズムパターン、ビートの強調などの要素を組み合わせて、楽曲が踊りやすいかどうかを示します。ダンス向きの楽曲は、一定のテンポ、反復的な音楽構造、強いダウンビートを持つ傾向があります。
エネルギー
楽曲の知覚される強さを示し、テンポ、音量の変化、音の密度などによって影響されます。エネルギーが高い曲は、力強いリズムや密度の高い編成を特徴とし、エネルギーが低い曲は、音の間隔が広く、テンポもゆったりとした構成になる傾向があります。
BPM72
クレジット
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Nova
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Joseph Zamora
Songwriter
Hilary Druley
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Joseph Zamora
Mastering Engineer
歌詞
[Verse]
Yo, December twenty-fifth, the house is feeling hollow, low
Every vow he ever made I watched him fail to follow through
Mama's mixing medication with her daily bottle, so
She can cope with all the hurt until she's numb and swallow slow
Says tomorrow she'll recover but tomorrow never comes around
Just another broken promise that she's burying underground
I'm unwrapping all this baggage like it's gifts beneath the tree
Decorating dysfunction, wrapping paper's misery
Hanging ornaments of abandonment on branches of my family tree
Every bulb's a bitter memory burning holes in front of me
Tinsel made of tension, garland strung with daddy's lies
Silent night but nothing's silent when I hear my mama cry
Learned the art of poker faces while I'm dying on the inside
Smiling through the agony, a master of the disguise
Christmas dinner's arguments and slurred words from the drunk
Wishing I could disappear, dissolve into my bunk
Thirteen different motels by the time that I turned ten
Every eviction notice was a gift I'd never send
Cousins got the Barbies, I got baggage and a burden
Watching grown-ups pop their pills behind a barely closed curtain
Empty chairs... empty rooms...
...
Nobody came... nobody knew...
...
I'm still here... barely though...
...
Tell me when... can I go...
(can I go... can I go...)
[Verse]
Fast forward to fifteen, found my mother's medicine cabinet
Thought if I could feel like nothing, I could finally manage it
Swallowed down her secrets just to stomach all the damage, shit
Got so good at being numb, I made a language out of savage splits
Between the girl I was supposed to be and who I actually became
A carbon copy catastrophe of everybody's pain
See, addiction was hereditary, passed down like the china plates
Except we pawned the dishes just to medicate the mental breaks
Seventeen with track marks, eighteen with regrets
Twenty-one in meetings, twenty-two with cigarettes
Trying to escape the cage but the cage was in my DNA
Every generation trapped inside the same display
Of self-destruction, substance function, nothing's ever quite enough
Love was always conditional on whether times were rough or tough
And they were always rough and tough, so love was always out of reach
Just another lesson that the broken people teach
I'm the student and the teacher, I'm the sinner and the saint
Trying to break the cycle with these words inside my paint
Every bar's a battle scar, every verse is therapy
Rapping out my trauma is the only thing that's set me free
Empty chairs... empty rooms...
...
Nobody came... nobody knew...
...
I'm still here... barely though...
...
Tell me when... can I go...
Some days...
...I'm slipping back...
...
Some days...
...I stay on track...
...
Some days...
...I want what I never had...
...
But most days...
...I'm just... glad I'm here...
[Verse]
Now I'm twenty-something, staring at my own reflection
Questioning if I'm my mother or my father's true projection
Or maybe I'm the anomaly, the one who breaks the chains the first one in my bloodline who can sit with all the pain without dissolving into powder liquid vape or smoke without needing something foreign just to help me cope ya I still got triggers ya I still got scars ya I still spend Decembers wishing on the stars that maybe things were different, that my childhood wasn't stolen, that my parents knew the weight of love, without being so broken, but wishes don't erase the past, they only highlight what's gone, so I take my pain and flip it into something I can build upon, these verses are my victory, these rhymes are my resistance, every word's a middle finger to the path of least resistance, I refuse to be a statistic, refuse to repeat the pattern, refuse to pass the trauma down and watch the next generation shatter, so this Christmas when the loneliness comes creeping in my door, I'll remember I'm the victor in the psychologic war, no presents under the tree but I'm present in my mind and that presence is the greatest gift that I can ever find. Empty Chairs, but I'm here, made it through another year, still standing, still fighting, silver lining.
Written by: Hilary Druley, Joseph Zamora

