Paris Paloma - labour [Official Video]

Why are you hanging on so tight to the road that I'm headed from? Off this island, this was an escape plan Carefully timed, did it solve any hope? And dive into the waves below Who turns the orchards? Who fixes up the cables? Emotional torture From the heavy high table Who fetches the water? From the rocky mountain spring And walk back down again To feel your words and your sharp sting And I'm getting ******* tired Like a pillow, these my eyes are bursting If all of died, would that be the worst thing? For somebody I thought was my saviour You make me do a whole lot of labour The callous skin on my hands is cracking If our love ends, would that be a bad thing? And the silence on suburb chamber You make me do too much labour Apologies for my tongue I'm never used Busy laughing from throwing up And stabbing with your fork I know you're a smart man Unweaponised The false incompetence It's dominance under a guide If we had a daughter I'd watch and could not save her The emotional torture From the heavy high table She'd do what he 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 Like a pillow, these my eyes are bursting If all of died, would that be the worst thing? For somebody I thought was my saviour You make me do a whole lot of labour The callous skin on my hands is cracking If our love ends, would that be a bad thing? And the silence on suburb chamber You make me do too much labour All day, every day, therapist, mother made Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, then a servant Just an appendage, lived to attend him Sold and 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 made Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, then a servant Just an appendage, lived to attend him Sold and 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 made Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, then a servant Just an appendage, lived to attend him Sold and 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