Labour - Paris Paloma

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

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 crackin'

If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?

And the silence haunts our bed chamber

You make me do too much labour

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 crackin'

If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?

And the silence haunts our bed chamber

You make me do too much labour

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 a virgin, nurse and a servant)

For somebody I thought was my saviour(Just an appendage, live to attend him)

You sure make me do a whole lot of labour (So that he never lifts a finger)

The calloused skin on my hands is crackin'(Twenty-four-seven baby machine)

If our love ends, would that be a bad thing? (So he can live out his picket fence dreams)

And the silence haunts our bed chamber (It's not an act of love if you make her)

You make me do too much labour