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Lirik Lagu The Tortured Poets Department

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[Verse 1]

You left your typewriter at my apartment

Straight from the tortured poets department

I think some things I 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?

[Chorus]

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, I'm not Patti Smith

This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we'rе modern idiots"

And who's gonna hold you like me?

[Post-Chorus]

Nobody

No-fucking-body

Nobody

[Verse 2]

You smokеd, 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 awaken with dread

Pounding nails in your head

But I've read this one where you come undone

I chose this cyclone with you

[Chorus]

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, I'm not Patti Smith

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?)

[Post-Chorus]

No-fucking-body

(Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?)

Nobody

(Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?)

Nobody

[Bridge]

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 is gonna know 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

[Chorus]

Who's gonna hold you? (Who?)

Me

Who's gonna know you? (Who?)

Me

And you're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith

This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're two idiots

Who's gonna hold you?

[Post-Chorus]

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?

Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?

[Outro]

You left your typewriter at my apartment

Straight from the tortured poets department

Who else decodes you?

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