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Labour - Paris Paloma Lyrics

Guess all the lyrics to the song Labour by Paris Paloma
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Last updated: December 17, 2023
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First submittedDecember 17, 2023
Times taken717
Average score76.1%
Rating5.00
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Answer
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
saviour
You
sure
make
me
do
a
whole
lot
of
labour
The
calloused
skin
on
my
hands
is
cracking
If
our
love
ended,
would
that
be
a
bad
thing?
And
the
silence
haunts
our
bed
chamber
You
make
me
do
too
much
labour
You
make
me
do
too
much
labour
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
weaponise
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
saviour
You
sure
make
me
do
a
whole
lot
of
labour
The
calloused
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
labour
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
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
(the
capillaries
in
my
eyes)
Therapist
mother
maid
(are
bursting)
Nymph
then
virgin
(if
our
love
died)
Nurse
then
a
servant
(would
that
be
the
worst
thing)
Just
an
appendage
(for
somebody)
Live
to
attend
him
(I
thought
was
my
saviour)
So
that
(you
sure
make)
He
never
lifts
a
finger
(me
do
a
whole
lot
of
labour)
24
7
(the
calloused
skin
on)
baby
machine)
(my
hands
is
crackin')
So
he
can
live
out
his
(if
our
love
ends)
His
picket
fence
dreams
(would
that
be
a
bad
thing?)
It's
not
an
act
of
love
(and
the
silence)
If
you
make
her
(haunts
our
bed
chamber)
You
make
me
do
too
much
labour
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