The Tortured Poets Department (Explicit) - Taylor Swift
Lyrics by：Jack Antonoff/Taylor Swift
Composed by：Jack Antonoff/Taylor Swift
Produced by：Jack Antonoff/Taylor Swift
Ooh you left your typewriter at my apartment
Straight from the tortured poets department
I think some things I\'ll never say
Like who uses typewriters anyway
But you\'re in self-sabotage mode
Throwing spikes down on the road
But I\'ve seen this episode and still loved the show
Who else decodes you
And who\'s gonna hold you like me
And who\'s gonna know you if not me
I laughed in your face and said
You\'re not Dylan Thomas oh
I\'m not Patti Smith oh
This ain\'t the Chelsea Hotel we\'re modern idiots
And who\'s gonna hold you like me
Nobody
No-*******-body
Nobody
You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate
We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist
I scratch your head you fall asleep
Like a tattooed golden retriever
But you\'re awaken with dread
Pounding nails in your head
But I\'ve read this one where you coming down
I chose this cyclone with you
And who\'s gonna hold you like me
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
And who\'s gonna know you like me
Who\'s gonna know you
I laughed in your face and said
You\'re not Dylan Thomas oh
I\'m not Patti Smith oh
This ain\'t the Chelsea Hotel we\'re modern idiots
And who\'s gonna hold you like me
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
No-*******-body
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Nobody
Who\'s gonna hold you
You wanna know you wanna show you
Nobody ooh-ooh
Sometimes I wonder if you\'re gonna screw this up with me
But you told Lucy you\'d kill yourself if I ever leave
And I had said that to Jack about you so I felt seen
Everyone we know understands why it\'s meant to be
\'Cause we\'re crazy
So tell me who else\'s gonna love you
At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger
And put it on the one people put wedding rings on
And that\'s the closest I\'ve come to my heart exploding
And who\'s gonna hold you
Huh me
Who\'s gonna know you
Ooh me
Ooh and you\'re not Dylan Thomas oh
I\'m not Patti Smith oh
This ain\'t the Chelsea Hotel we\'re two idiots
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
Who\'s gonna hold you
You wanna know you wanna show
Ooh-ooh ooh-ooh
You left your typewriter at my apartment
Straight from the tortured poets department
Who else decodes you ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh