Paris Paloma – Labour MP3 Download
Labour is a powerful and heartfelt song by the up-and-coming UK singer-songwriter Paris Paloma. Released on March 23, 2023, the song explores the strifes of a relationship where one person is doing all the work and feeling unappreciated for their efforts. The lyrics are poignant and raw, painting a picture of overwhelming exhaustion and frustration. The song begins with a plea for release, with Paloma asking why the other person is holding on so tightly to the metaphorical rope that she is hanging from. It's clear from the start that this is a relationship that has become suffocating and that Paloma is searching for a way out. She sings about her careful planning for an escape, but it's clear that the heartrending toll of the relationship has taken its toll.
Paloma contrasts the sentimental labour she's putting into the relationship with the physical labour of tending orchards, fixing gables, and fetching water. Through this, she highlights the inequity in the relationship and the lack of appreciation for what she's doing. She sings about the pain and exhaustion she's experiencing, with her capillaries bursting and her skin cracking.
Despite the hardship, Paloma is still holding on and questioning whether the end of the relationship would be the worst thing. It's a heartbreaking admission that highlights the struggle of letting go of something that you've invested so much in, even if it's causing you pain. Overall, Labour is a moving and understandable song that touches on the complications of relationships and the passionate labour that often goes unnoticed. Paloma's vocals are uncanny and emotive, and the lyrics are powerful and thought-provoking. It's a song that will resonate with anyone who has ever felt like they're doing all the work in a relationship and not getting the appreciation they deserve.
Why are you hangin' on
So tight
To the rope that I'm hangin' 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 gettin' fu*kin' 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
(You make me do too much labour)
Apologies from my tongue
Never yours
Busy lapping from a 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 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 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
All day, every day: Therapist, mother, maid
Nymph, then a virgin nurse, and 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, and 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
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 callous 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