Taylor Swift – The Tortured Poets Department Chords

[Intro]
D

[Verse 1]
C
 You left your typewriter
at my apartment
F
 Straight from the
tourtured poets department
C
 I think some things
I never say
F
 Like, "Who uses
typewriters anyway?"
Am
 But you're in
               G
self-sabotage mode
 Throwing spikes down
        C
 on the road
                       F
 But I've seen this episode
 and still love the show
 Am         C
 Who else decodes you?

[Chords]
C
 And who's gonna hold
     F
you like me?
C
 And who's gonna know
         F
 you if not me?
 I laughed in your
 face and said,
Dm
 "You're not Dylan Thomas.
  C
 I'm not Patti Smith.
F
 This ain't the Chelsea
        C
 Hotel. We're modern idiots."
 And who's gonna hold
      F
 you like me?
   C
 Nobody
            F
 No-fcking-body
   F
 Nobody

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[Verse 2]
C
 You smoked then ate
 seven bars of chocolate
F
 We declared Charlie Puth
 should be a bigger artist
C
 I scratch your head,
 you fall asleep
F
 Like a tattooed golden
retriever
Am                     G
 But you awakened with dread,
                        C
 pounding nails in your head
                     F
 But I've read this one
F
 where you come undone
   Am           C
 I chose this cyclone
with you

[Chorus]
C
 And who's gonna hold
      F
 you like me?
 (Who's gonna hold you?
Who's gonna hold you?)
C
 And who's gonna know you
      F
if not me?
(Who's gonna know you?)

 I laughed in your
 face and said,
Dm
 "You're not Dylan Thomas.
  C
 I'm not Patti Smith.
F
 This ain't the Chelsea
       C
 Hotel. We're modern idiots."
 And who's gonna hold
      F
 you like me?
C   F   C   F

[Bridge]
C
 Sometimes I wonder
if you're gonna screw
this up with me
F
 But you told Lucy you'd
 kill yourself if
I ever leave
C
 And I had said that
to Jack about you,
so I felt seen
F
 Everyone we know
 understands why
 it's meant to be
C               F
 'Cause we're crazy
            C
 So tell me, who else
            F
 is gonna know me?
    Am
 At dinner you take
                G
 my ring off my middle
 finger, and
               C
 Put it on the one people
      F
 put wedding rings on
                Am
 And that's the closest
              G
 I've come to my heart
exploding

[Alt Chorus]
C
 And who's gonna hold you?
 F
  Me
C
 And who's gonna
          F
know you?  Me
 Dm
 And you're not Dylan Thomas.
C
 I'm not Patti Smith.
F
 This ain't the Chelsea
       C
Hotel. We're two idiots.
                 G
 And who's gonna hold you?
C   F   C   F

[Outro]
Am             G
 You left your typewriter
 at my apartment
 C
 Straight from the tourtured
 F
 poets department
Am          G
 Who else decodes you?
  C   F
C   F   C   F