These are The Tortured Poets Department chords by Taylor Swift on Piano, Ukulele, Guitar, and Keyboard.
[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