Labour taby ukulele według Paris Paloma

[Verse 1]
Bm                        Em7
    Why are you hanging on
        G
So tight
                             A
To the rope that I'm hanging from
         Bm
Off this island
                       Esus4           Em
This was an escape plan (This was an escape plan)
           G
Carefully timed it
             A
So let me go
N.C.
And dive into the waves below
 
 
[Pre-Chorus]
Bm                      D
   Who tends the orchards?
                 G
Who fixes up the gables?
             F#7
Emotional torture
                             Bm
From the head of your high table
                     D
Who fetches the water
                         G
From the rocky mountain spring?
                     F#7
And walk back down again
                               G
To feel your words and their sharp sting
        G
And I'm getting fucking 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 cracking
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
 
[Post-Chorus]
Bm   Em   G   A
             (You make me do too much labour)
 
[Verse 2]
Bm                   Em
   Apologies for my tongue
       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                    A
And weaponise the false incompetence
                        Bm
It's dominance under a guise
 
 
[Pre-Chorus]
(Bm)                 D
If we had a daughter
                        G
I'd watch and could not save her
                  F#7
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#7
So now I've gotta run
                     G
So I can undo this mistake
   G
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 cracking
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
All day, every day
Bm
Therapist, mother, maid
Bm
Nymph, then a virgin
Bm
Nurse, then a servant
Bm
Just an appendage, live to attend him
Bm
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
All day, every day
D
Therapist, mother, maid
G
Nymph, then a virgin
A
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.          (All day, every day, therapist 
mother maid)
G                 A
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?  (Nymph, then a virgin, nurse, 
then a servant)
Bm              D
For somebody I thought was my saviour             (Just an appendage, live to 
attend him)
    G                 A
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour         (so that he never lifts a finger)
Bm                       D
The calloused skin on my hands is cracking        (Twenty-four-seven baby machine)
G                 A
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?      (So he can live out his picket 
fence dreams)
Bm              D
And the silence haunts our bed chamber            (It's not an act of love if you 
make her)
G               A
You make me do too much labour