Labour

Album: Cacophony (2023)
Charted: 22
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  • (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 savior
    You sure make me do a whole lot of labor
    The callous 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 labor

    (You make me do too much labor, labor)

    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 weaponize 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 savior
    You sure make me do a whole lot of labor
    The callous 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 labor

    All day, every day
    Therapist, mother, maid
    Nymph then a virgin, nurse than 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 love if you make her
    You make me do too much labor

    All day, every day
    Therapist, mother, maid
    Nymph then a virgin, nurse than 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 love if you make her
    You make me do too much labor

    The capillaries in my eyes are bursting (all day, every day, therapist, mother, maid)
    If our love died would that be the worst thing? (Nymph then virgin, nurse than servant)
    For somebody I thought was my savior (just an appendage, live to attend him)
    You sure make me do a whole lot of labor (so that he never lifts a finger)
    The callous skin on my hands is cracking (twenty-four seven, baby machine)
    If our love ends would that be a bad thing? (So he can live out his picket fence dream)
    And the silence haunts our bed chamber (it's not an act of love if you make her)
    You make me do too much labor Writer/s: Paris Paloma
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

Comments: 2

  • Mojo from CanadaMarried 28 years. This song is a true story. :’(
  • Sara from IrelandMy singing teacher actually helped write this song!
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