(One, two, three) 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
by Sanderlei Silveira - 26/03/2023
(One, two, three) 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 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
[Post-Chorus]
(You make me do too much labour)
[Verse 2]
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
[Pre-Chorus]
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
[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 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
[Bridge]
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
[Chorus]
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
(Un, dos, tres) Per què us pengeu! Massa apretat
A la corda de la qual estic penjat. Fora d'aquesta illa?
Aquest era un pla d’escapament (aquest era un pla d’escapament)
El cronometrà amb cura. Deixeu -me anar! I submergiu -vos a les ones de sota
[Pre-cor]
Qui tendeix els horts?
Qui soluciona els Gables?
Tortura emocional
Des del cap de la vostra taula alta
Qui recupera l’aigua
Des de la primavera de Rocky Mountain?
I torna a caminar cap avall
Per sentir les teves paraules i la seva forta picada?
I estic cansat
[Cor]
Els capil·lars dels meus ulls estan esclatant
Si el nostre amor morís, seria el pitjor?
Per a algú vaig pensar que era el meu salvador
Segur que em feu fer molta feina
La pell cridada de les meves mans és cruixent
Si el nostre amor s’acabi, seria dolent?
I el silenci embruta la nostra cambra del llit
Em fas fer massa treball
[Post-Chorus]
(Em fas fer massa treball)
[Verse 2]
Disculpeu la meva llengua
Mai el teu
Funcionament ocupat d’una tassa que flueix
I apunyalar amb la forquilla
Sé que ets un home intel·ligent (sé que ets un home intel·ligent)
I armes
La falsa incompetència
És domini sota disfressa
[Pre-cor]
Si tinguéssim una filla
Miraria i no la podia salvar
La tortura emocional
Des del cap de la vostra taula alta
Faria el que li vas ensenyar
Coneixia el mateix destí cruel
Així que ara he de córrer
Per tant, puc desfer aquest error
Almenys he de provar -ho
[Cor]
Els capil·lars dels meus ulls estan esclatant
Si el nostre amor morís, seria el pitjor?
Per a algú vaig pensar que era el meu salvador
Segur que em feu fer molta feina
La pell cridada de les meves mans és cruixent
Si el nostre amor s’acabi, seria dolent?
I el silenci embruta la nostra cambra del llit
Em fas fer massa treball
[Pont]
Tot el dia, cada dia: terapeuta, mare, criada
Nimfa, llavors una infermera verge i un servent
Només un apèndix, en directe per assistir -hi
De manera que mai no aixeca un dit
Vint-i-quatre-set màquina per a nadons
Així que pot viure els seus somnis de tanca de piquet
No és un acte d’amor si la fas
Em fas fer massa treball
Tot el dia, cada dia: terapeuta, mare, criada
Nimfa, llavors verge, infermera i servent
Només un apèndix, en directe per assistir -hi
De manera que mai no aixeca un dit
Vint-i-quatre-set màquina per a nadons
Així que pot viure els seus somnis de tanca de piquet
No és un acte d’amor si la fas
Em fas fer massa treball
[Cor]
Els capil·lars dels meus ulls estan esclatant (tot el dia, cada dia: terapeuta, mare, criada)
Si el nostre amor morís, seria el pitjor? (Nimfa, llavors verge, infermera i servent)
Per a algú vaig pensar que era el meu salvador (només un apèndix, en directe per assistir -hi)
Segur que em feu fer molta mà d’obra (de manera que mai no aixequi un dit)
La pell cridosa de les meves mans és cruixent (vint-i-quatre-set màquina per a nadons)
Si el nostre amor s’acabi, seria dolent? (Perquè pugui viure els seus somnis de tanca de piquet)
I el silenci embruta la nostra cambra del llit (no és un acte d’amor si la fas)
Em fas fer massa treball