Verse 1AmWhy are you hanging oDn?
So tFight
To the road that I'm headed frGom
Off this iAmsland
This was an escape plDan (This was an escape plan)
Carefully tiFmed it
So that we'd go
GAnd dive into the waves below
Pre-ChorusAmWho tends the orchaCrds?
Who fixes up the gaFbles?
Emotional tortE7ure
From the head of your high tAmable
Who fetches the waCter?
From the rocky mountain spFring
And walk back down aE7gain?
To feel your words and their sharp stiFng
And I'm getting ******* tiredChorusThe cAmapillaries in my eCyes are bursting
FIf our love died, woGuld that be the worst thing?
AmFor somebody I thoCught was my saviour
You suFre make me do a whGole lot of labour
AmThe callous skin on my haCnds is cracking
FIf our love ends, woGuld that be a bad thing?
AmAnd the silence haCunts our bed chamber
YFou make me do tGoo much labourInterludeAmDFG.
Verse 2AmApologies from my tDongue
And never yoFurs
Busy lapping from a flowing cGup
And stabbing me with your fAmork
I know you're a smart man (DI know you're a smart man)
And weaponFize the false incompetGence
It's dominance under a gAmuisePre-ChorusIf we had a daCughter
I'd watch and could not sFave her
The emotional torE7ture
From the head of your high tAmable
She'd do what you taught hCer
She'd meet the same cruel fFate
So now I've gotta E7run
So I can undo this mistFake
At least I've gotta tGryChorusThe cAmapillaries in my eCyes are bursting
FIf our love died, woGuld that be the worst thing?
AmFor somebody I thoCught was my saviour
You suFre make me do a whGole lot of labour
AmThe callous skin on my haCnds is cracking
FIf our love ends, woGuld that be a bad thing?
AmAnd the silence haCunts our bed chamber
YFou make me do tGoo much labourBridgeAmAll day, every day
TCherapist, mother, maid
NFymph then a virgin
NGurse than a servant
JAmust an appendage, liCve to attend him
SFo that he never liGfts a finger
TAmwenty-four seven bCaby machine
So Fhe can live out his pGicket fence dreams
AmIt's not an act of lCove if you make her
YFou make me do tGoo much labourVerse 3AmAll day, every day
TCherapist, mother, maid
NFymph then a virgin
NGurse than a servant
JAmust an appendage, liCve to attend him
SFo that he never liGfts a finger
TAmwenty-four seven bCaby machine
So Fhe can live out his pGicket fence dreams
AmIt's not an act of lCove if you make her
YFou make me do tGoo much labourChorusThe cAmapillaries in my eCyes are bursting
FIf our love died, woGuld that be the worst thing?
AmFor somebody I thoCught was my saviour
You suFre make me do a whGole lot of labour
AmThe callous skin on my haCnds is cracking
FIf our love ends, woGuld that be a bad thing?
AmAnd the silence haCunts our bed chamber
YFou make me do tGoo much labAmour
