December Rain

Country, Dark-Americana, boom-bap, Hip-Hop, doom-rap

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V5.5

[Part 1 – clean male rap]

She came in with December stitched into her skin,
Windows trembling softly from the razor-thin wind.
Outside, the trees leaned sideways in prayer,
While her mother held a silence too sacred to share.

Snow gathered slowly on the hospital rail,
Like heaven pressing fingerprints onto the pale.
Her father smiled nervous, hands shaking with grace,
As if joy itself had entered and borrowed her face.

Years moved strange.
The wallpaper faded uneven.
Summer left quietly every season thereafter.

Family pictures curled at the corners with age,
Dust gathering gently like grief on a stage.
And somewhere inside all those tear-heavy nights
Lived the first little fracture beneath all the light.

[Chorus – deep female blues singer]

She spoke to the sky, but the sky stayed still,
No answer came drifting over the hill.
Some hearts grow tired long before they break,
Still carrying burdens too heavy to name.

[Part 2 – clean male rap]

She never moved right with the rest of the room,
Always half-lost in the edge of the moon.
While the others laughed loud with their cigarettes lit,
She stared at the clouds like they whispered to her.

Out near the hills where the tall grass swayed,
She built little worlds no one else could invade.
Sat on cold stones till her fingers turned white,
Watching gold melt slowly out the evening light.

Loneliness changes the shape of your posture.
Makes every hallway feel ten miles longer.
Makes crowded rooms colder than winter apartments
And kindness feel rare as planets in darkness.

Her parents wanted trophies framed on the wall,
Straight lines, safe roads, predictable calls.
But her mind moved wild like birds before storms,
Too restless for labels, too vivid for forms.

And men saw softness like wolves see an opening,
Left fingerprints deep where the healing was broken.
She learned how affection could sharpen its teeth,
How promises rot underneath pretty speech.

So she kept disappearing up onto that hillside,
Watching the city dissolve into nighttime.
Dreaming of somewhere her thoughts could exist
Without being treated like illness or risk.

[Chorus – female blues singer]

She spoke to the sky, but the sky stayed still,
No answer came drifting over the hill.
Some souls walk wounded their whole life through,
Searching for warmth that the world never knew.

[Part 3 – clean rap]

At eighteen the classrooms finally released her,
Grades scattered behind like glass in the rearview.
Everybody spoke about her, nobody spoke to her,
Like pain becomes invisible once it grows familiar.

Days turned heavy as soaked winter coats,
Every breath dragging stones in her throat.
Mirrors grew cruel in the half-light glow,
And hope became something she watched from afar.

Still—
somewhere beneath all the ruin and doubt
A small stubborn ember refused to go out.
She waited for something:
a voice,
a hand,
a reason to stay long enough to withstand.

But night came early that final December.
The shoreline carried a freezing surrender.
Streetlamps flickered gold on the black-water edge,
While waves climbed softly across the cement.

And she walked alone through the salt and the wind,
Past sleeping houses and shuttered porches,
Carrying silence the way exhausted people do
When they no longer believe language can save them.

[Ending – both voices]

By morning the tide had erased every step.
Only the ocean remembered she left.
And somewhere beyond all the cold and the rain,
She finally loosened her hands from the pain.

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[Part 1 – clean male rap] She came in with December stitched into her skin, Windows trembling softly from the razor-thin wind. Outside, the trees leaned sideways in prayer, While her mother held a silence too sacred to share. Snow gathered slowly on the hospital rail, Like heaven pressing fingerprints onto the pale. Her father smiled nervous, hands shaking with grace, As if joy itself had entered and borrowed her face. Years moved strange. The wallpaper faded uneven. Summer left quietly every season thereafter. Family pictures curled at the corners with age, Dust gathering gently like grief on a stage. And somewhere inside all those tear-heavy nights Lived the first little fracture beneath all the light. [Chorus – deep female blues singer] She spoke to the sky, but the sky stayed still, No answer came drifting over the hill. Some hearts grow tired long before they break, Still carrying burdens too heavy to name. [Part 2 – clean male rap] She never moved right with the rest of the room, Always half-lost in the edge of the moon. While the others laughed loud with their cigarettes lit, She stared at the clouds like they whispered to her. Out near the hills where the tall grass swayed, She built little worlds no one else could invade. Sat on cold stones till her fingers turned white, Watching gold melt slowly out the evening light. Loneliness changes the shape of your posture. Makes every hallway feel ten miles longer. Makes crowded rooms colder than winter apartments And kindness feel rare as planets in darkness. Her parents wanted trophies framed on the wall, Straight lines, safe roads, predictable calls. But her mind moved wild like birds before storms, Too restless for labels, too vivid for forms. And men saw softness like wolves see an opening, Left fingerprints deep where the healing was broken. She learned how affection could sharpen its teeth, How promises rot underneath pretty speech. So she kept disappearing up onto that hillside, Watching the city dissolve into nighttime. Dreaming of somewhere her thoughts could exist Without being treated like illness or risk. [Chorus – female blues singer] She spoke to the sky, but the sky stayed still, No answer came drifting over the hill. Some souls walk wounded their whole life through, Searching for warmth that the world never knew. [Part 3 – clean rap] At eighteen the classrooms finally released her, Grades scattered behind like glass in the rearview. Everybody spoke about her, nobody spoke to her, Like pain becomes invisible once it grows familiar. Days turned heavy as soaked winter coats, Every breath dragging stones in her throat. Mirrors grew cruel in the half-light glow, And hope became something she watched from afar. Still— somewhere beneath all the ruin and doubt A small stubborn ember refused to go out. She waited for something: a voice, a hand, a reason to stay long enough to withstand. But night came early that final December. The shoreline carried a freezing surrender. Streetlamps flickered gold on the black-water edge, While waves climbed softly across the cement. And she walked alone through the salt and the wind, Past sleeping houses and shuttered porches, Carrying silence the way exhausted people do When they no longer believe language can save them. [Ending – both voices] By morning the tide had erased every step. Only the ocean remembered she left. And somewhere beyond all the cold and the rain, She finally loosened her hands from the pain.

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