❝ Introduction ❞ ♪ Hello hello, welcome! I mentioned in my previous project that I was planning to post many song covers and I'm very excited to release this one - a cover of the hit song "Labour" by Paris Paloma. This song has such deep/female-empowering lyrics that genuinely hit hard for me and while I get rather emotional while listening or singing this, I'm proud to post it <33 I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated! ❝ Lyrics ❞ (CW: Brief mentions of SA; please tread carefully if you're sensitive <3) ♪ Why are you hanging on So tight To the rope that I'm hanging from Off this island? This was an escape plan Carefully timed it so that we'd 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 oh-so tired The capillaries in my eyes are bursting If our love died would that be the worst thing? For somebody that I thought was my savior You sure 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 haunts our bed chamber You make me do too much labour Apologies for 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 weaponize 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 that I thought was my savior You sure 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 haunts our bed chamber You make me do too much labour All day, every day Therapist, mother, maid Nymph then a virgin, nurse than 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 than 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 - Rae <3
