Taylor Swift新歌《The Tortured Poets Department》｜歌詞＋新歌試聽＋MV
Taylor Swift《The Tortured Poets Department》 | 目錄
Taylor Swift《The Tortured Poets Department》｜歌詞
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 going to hold you Like me?
And who’s going to love you, if not me?
I laughed in your face and said,
"You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith"
This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel
We’re modern idiots
Who’s going to hold you like me?
Nobody.
No f—king body. Nobody.
You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate
We declared Charli Puth should be a bigger artist
I scratch your head you fall asleep
Like a tattooed golden retriever
But you awaken with dread
Counting nails in your head
But I’ve left this one
Where you come undone
I chose this cyclone with you
And who’s going to hold you like me?
And who’s going to love you like me?
I laughed in your face and said,
"You’re not Dylan Thomas, I’m not Patti Smith"
This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel
We’re modern idiots
Who’s going to hold you like me?
Nobody.No f—king body. Nobody.
Sometimes I wonder if you’re going to screw this up with me
But you tell Lucy you’d kill yourself if I ever leave
And I had said that to Jack about you So I felt seen
Every we know understands why it’s meant to be
'Cause we’re crazy.
So tell me, who else is going to love me?
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.
Who’s going to hold you? ….Me.
Who’s going to know you? …Me.
And you’re not Dylan Thomas
I’m not Patti Smith
This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel
We’re two idiots
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
Who’s going to hold you?
You left your typewriter at my apartment
Straight from the tortured poets department
Who else decodes you Like me?
