Paris Paloma - labour (Lyrics)

Paris Paloma - labour (Lyrics)
Paris Paloma - labour (Lyrics)
Paris Paloma - labour (Lyrics)
♫ Paris Paloma - labour
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(Lyrics):
[Intro]
(One, two, three)
[Verse 1]
Why are you hangin' on So tight
To the rope that I'm hangin' 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
[Pre-Chorus]
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 gettin' fuckin' tired
[Chorus]
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our yêu 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 crackin'
If our yêu ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
[Post-Chorus]
(You make me do too much labour)
[Verse 2]
Apologies from my tongue Never yours
Busy lapping from a 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 guise
[Pre-Chorus]
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
[Chorus]
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our yêu 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 crackin'
If our yêu ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
[Bridge]
All day, every day: Therapist, mother, maid
Nymph, then a virgin nurse, and a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
Twenty-four-seven baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of yêu if you make her
You make me do too much labour
All day, every day: Therapist, mother, maid
Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, and a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
Twenty-four-seven baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of yêu if you make her
You make me do too much labour
[Chorus]
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our yêu 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 callous skin on my hands is crackin
If our yêu ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
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labour
Paris Paloma labour
Paris Paloma labour Lyrics
The capillaries in my e

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