Intro: D Verse: C You left your typerwriter at my apartment F Straight from the tourtured poets department C I think some things I never say F Like, "Who uses typerwriters anyway?" Am G But youʼre in self-sabotage mode C Throwing spikes down on the road F But Iʼve seen this episode and still love the show Am C Who else decodes you? Chords C F And whoʼs gonna hold you like me? C F And whoʼs gonna know you if not me? I laughed in your face and said, Dm C "Youʼre not Dylan Thomas. Iʼm not Patti Smith. F C This ainʼt the Chelsea Hotel. Weʼre modern idiots." F And whoʼs gonna hold you like me? C Nobody F No-fucking-body F Nobody Verse: 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 C But you awakened with dread, pounding nails in your head F But Iʼve read this one where you come undone Am C I chose this cyclone with you Chorus: C F And whoʼs gonna hold you like me? (Whoʼs gonna hold you? Whoʼs gonna hold you?) C F And whoʼs gonna know you if not me? (Whoʼs gonna know you?) I laughed in your face and said, Dm C "Youʼre not Dylan Thomas. Iʼm not Patti Smith. F C This ainʼt the Chelsea Hotel. Weʼre modern idiots." F And whoʼs gonna hold you like me? C F C F Bridge: C Sometimes I wonder if youʼre gonna screw this up with me F But you told Lucy youʼd 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 itʼs meant to be C F ʼCause weʼre crazy C F So tell me, who else is gonna know me? Am G At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger, and C F Put it on the one people put wedding rings on Am G And thatʼs the closest Iʼve come to my heart exploding Chorus: C F And whoʼs gonna hold you? ...Me C F And whoʼs gonna know you? ...Me Dm C And youʼre not Dylan Thomas. Iʼm not Patti Smith. F C This ainʼt the Chelsea Hotel. Weʼre two idiots. G And whoʼs gonna hold you? C F C F Outro: Am G You left your typerwriter at my apartment C F Straight from the tourtured poets department Am G C F Who else decodes you? C F C F
