Paris Paloma - labour

[Intro]
(One, two, three)

[Verse 1]
Bm
Why are you hangin’ on
Em G
So tight
To the rope that I’m hangin’ from
A Bm
Off this island?
Em
This was an escape plan (This was an escape plan)
G
Carefully timed it
So let me go
A
And dive into the waves below

[Pre-Chorus]
Bm D
Who tends the orchards?
G
Who fixes up the gables?
F#
Emotional torture
Bm
From the head of your high table
D
Who fetches the water
G
From the rocky mountain spring?
F#
And walk back down again
G
To feel your words and their sharp sting?
And I’m gettin’ fuckin’ tired

[Chorus]
Bm D
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
G A
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
Bm D
For somebody I thought was my saviour
G A
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour
Bm D
The calloused skin on my hands is crackin’
G A
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
Bm D
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
G A
You make me do too much labour

[Pre-Verse]
Bm Em G A
(You make me do too much labour)

[Verse 2]
Bm
Apologies from my tongue
Em G
Never yours
A
Busy lapping from flowing cup
Bm
And stabbing with your fork
Em
I know you’re a smart man (I know you’re a smart man)
G
And weaponise
The false incompetence
A Bm
It’s dominance under guise

[Pre-Chorus]
D
If we had a daughter
G
I’d watch and could not save her
F#
The emotional torture
Bm
From the head of your high table
D
She’d do what you taught her
G
She’d meet the same cruel fate
F#
So now I’ve gotta run
G
So I can undo this mistake
At least I’ve gotta try

[Chorus]
Bm D
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
G A
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
Bm D
For somebody I thought was my saviour
G A
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour
Bm D
The calloused skin on my hands is crackin’
G A
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
Bm D
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
G A
You make me do too much labour

[Bridge]
Bm D
All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
G A
Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, then a servant
Bm D
Just an appendage, live to attend him
G A
So that he never lifts a finger
Bm D
Twenty-four-seven baby machine
G A
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
Bm D
It’s not an act of love if you make her
G A
You make me do too much labour
Bm D
All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
G A
Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, then a servant
Bm D
Just an appendage, live to attend him
G A
So that he never lifts a finger
Bm D
Twenty-four-seven baby machine
G A
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
Bm D
It’s not an act of love if you make her
G A
You make me do too much labour

[Chorus]
Bm D
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
G A
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
Bm D
For somebody I thought was my saviour
G A
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour
Bm D
The calloused skin on my hands is crackin’
G A
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
Bm D
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
G A
You make me do too much labour