LABOUR- Paris Paloma
Labour by Paris Paloma is a gift for the women of all centuries. It perfectly represents the pain and emotional torture men endure on women, which women are supposed to accept like a casual occurence in life.
Labour by Paris Paloma is a gift for the women of all centuries. It perfectly represents the pain and emotional torture men endure on women, which women are supposed to accept like a casual occurence in life.
Paris Paloma was born in Derbyshire, England. Surrounded by nature and art, she was raised in a creatively nurturing environment that deeply shaped her perspective as a songwriter and visual artist.
She began writing poetry and songs from a young age, drawn to storytelling and emotional honesty. Inspired by folk, classical, and alternative music, she turned her introspection into haunting, cinematic soundscapes.
“Labour” was born from rage and exhaustion. Paris wrote it to express the silent weight women carry — the emotional and domestic labor that often goes unseen, unheard, and unappreciated.
[Intro]
(One, two, three)
[Verse 1]
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
[Pre-Chorus]
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' fuckin' 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 saviour
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 bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
