Patti Smith Thanked Taylor Swift for Name-Dropping Her on ‘The Tortured Poets Department‘

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Patti Thanked Tay for Being Mentioned on ‘TTPD‘Getty Images
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Patti Smith 🤝🏻 a proud member of The Tortured Poets Department. Last Friday, the legendary musician took to Instagram to share several black-and-white snaps of herself (a very TTPD-coded color palette if ya ask us 👀) reading the book “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog” by Welsh poet and writer Dylan Thomas, all the while nodding to Tay's mention of her in the track “The Tortured Poets Department.”

“This is saying I was moved to be mentioned in the company of the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. Thank you Taylor. @taylorswift,” Patti penned in her message to Tay in the style of a poem.

A refresher that in the Grammy winner’s title track, she sings, “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.'”

Btw, this isn’t the first time the rock musician has made positive remarks about the “Blank Space” singer. Back in 2019 during an interview with the New York Times, she opened up about her thoughts on Taylor's massive celebrity status.

“She's a pop star who's under tremendous scrutiny all the time, and one can't imagine what that's like,” Patti began before adding, “It's unbelievable to not be able to go anywhere, do anything, have messy hair. And I’m sure that she’s trying to do something good. She’s not trying to do something bad. And if it influences some of her avid fans to open up their thoughts, what does it matter?”

Literally couldn't have said it better myself! 🥺❤️ Anyway, here's a refresher on “The Tortured Poets Department” lyrics, which I may or may not have already memorized due to blasting the whole album this entire weekend.

Lyrics (via Genius):

[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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