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labour
Song by Paris Paloma

One, two, three

Why are you hanging on so tight

To the rope that I'm hanging from?
Off this island, this was an escape plan (this was an
escape plan)
Carefully timed it, so let me go
And dive into the waves below

Who tends the orchards? Who fixes up the gables?

Emotional torture from the head of your high table
Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring?
And walk back down again to feel your words and their
sharp sting
And I'm getting fucking tired

The capillaries in my eyes are bursting

If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour

The calloused skin on my hands is cracking

If our love ended, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
You make me do too much labour

Apologies from my tongue, and never yours

Busy lapping from flowing cup and stabbing with your
fork
I know you're a smart man (I know you're a smart man),
and weaponise
The false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise

If we had a daughter, I'd watch and could not save her

The emotional torture, from the head of your high table
She'd do what you taught her, she'd meet the same cruel
fate
So now I've gotta run, so I can undo this mistake
At least I've gotta try

The capillaries in my eyes are bursting

If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour

The calloused skin on my hands is cracking

If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid

Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
24∕7, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid

Nymph then virgin, nurse and a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
24∕7, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour

The capillaries in my eyes (all day, every day)

Are bursting (therapist, mother, maid)
If our love died (nymph then virgin)
Would that be the worst thing? (Nurse then a servant)
For somebody (just an appendage)
I thought was my saviour (live to attend him)
You sure make me do (so that)
A whole lot of labour (he never lifts a finger)

The calloused skin on my hands (24∕7)

Is cracking (baby machine)
If our love ends (so he can live out)
Would that be a bad thing? (His picket fence dreams)
And the silence (it's not an act of love)
Haunts our bed chamber (if you make her)
You make me do too much labour
Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Paris Paloma

labour lyrics © Sony Music Publishing (uk) Ltd

Videos
Paris Paloma - labour
(Lyrics)
YouTube · sunday
3:57
Apr 9, 2023

Paris Paloma - Labour

(Lyrics)
YouTube · The Vibe Guide
3:58
Mar 23, 2023

Paris Paloma - labour

(Lyrics)
YouTube · 7clouds
3:55
Mar 29, 2023

Paris Paloma - Labour

(Lyrics)
YouTube · Royal Music
3:58
Jun 12, 2023

Paris Paloma - labour

[O!cial Video]
YouTube · Paris Paloma
4:06
Mar 23, 2023

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Labour Lyrics - You make
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Spotify
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labour - song and lyrics by Paris Paloma

Listen to labour on Spotify. Paris Paloma · Song · 2023.

Letras.mus.br
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labour - Paris Paloma - LETRAS.MUS.BR

Paris Paloma ; Why are you hanging on. So tight. To the
rope that I'm hanging from ; Who tends the orchards?
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