LABOUR

[Verse 1]

Why are you hanging on

So tight to that 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

[Pre-Chorus]

Who tends the orchard?

Who fixes up the gables?

Emotional torture

From the head of your high table

Who fetches the water

From the rocky mountain spring?

And I walk back down again

To feel your words and their sharp sting

And I'm getting fucking tired

[Chorus]

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 makе me do a whole lot of labour

The callousеd skin on my hands is cracking

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

And the silence haunts our bedchamber

You make me do too much labour

[Post-Chorus]

(You make me do too much labour)

[Verse 2]

Apologies for my tongue

And never yours

Busy lapping from flowing ups

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

[Pre-Chorus]

If I 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

[Chorus]

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 labour

The calloused skin on my hands is cracking

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

And the silence haunts our bedchamber

You make me do too much labour

[Post-Chorus]

(You make me do too much labour)

[Bridge]

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

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 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

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 labour

[Chorus]

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, then a servant)

For somebody I thought was my savior (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 cracking (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 bedchamber (It's not an act of love if you make her)

You make me do too much labour (You make me do too much labour)