Labour
Paris Paloma
One, two, three
HmWhy are you hangingEm on so tightG
To the rope that I'm hangingA from?
Off thisHm island, this was an escape planE (this was anEm escape plan)
CarefullyG timed it, so let me goA
And dive into the waves below
HmWho tends the orchDards? Who fixes up theG gables?
EmotionalF# torture from the head of your highHm table
Who fetches the waterD from the rocky mountainG spring?
And walk back downF# again to feel your words
And theirG sharp sting
And I'mG getting fucking tired
HmThe capillaries in myD eyes are bursting
GIf our love died,A would that be the worst thing?
HmFor somebody ID thought was my saviour
YouG sure make me do aA whole lot of labour
HmThe calloused skin on myD hands is cracking
GIf our love ends,A would that be a bad thing?
HmAnd the silenceD haunts our bed chamber
GYou make me doA too much labour
HmEmGAYou make me do too much labour
HmApologies from myEm tongue, and neverG yours
Busy lapping from flowingA cup and stabbing with your forkHm
I know you're a smart manEm (I know you're a smart man)
And weapoGnise
The false incompeAtence, it's dominance under aHm guise
HmIf we had a daughterD, I'd watch and could notG save her
The emotional torF#ture from the head of your highHm table
She'd do what you taught herD
She'd meet the sameG cruel fate
So now I've gottaF# run, so I can undo this misGtake
AtG least I've gotta try
HmThe capillaries in myD eyes are bursting
GIf our love died,A would that be the worst thing?
HmFor somebody ID thought was my saviour
YouG sure make me do aA whole lot of labour
HmThe calloused skin on myD hands is cracking
GIf our love ends,A would that be a bad thing?
HmAnd the silenceD haunts our bed chamber
GYou make me doA too much labour
[:Hm 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
Hm24/7D baby machine
SoG he can live out hisA picket-fence dreams
HmIt's not an act ofD love if you make her
GYou make me doA too much labour :] x2
HmThe capillaries in myD eyes are bursting
GIf our love died,A would that be the worst thing?
HmFor somebody ID thought was my saviour
YouG sure make me do aA whole lot of labour
HmThe calloused skin on myD hands is cracking
GIf our love ends,A would that be a bad thing?
HmAnd the silenceD haunts our bed chamber
GYou make me doA too much labour
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