Leading up to the release of Taylor Swift’s eleventh studio album, The Tortured Poets Department, many fans theorized that the release would be largely about her breakup with Joe Alwyn, her boyfriend of six years who she split from right as she began touring the nation for her record-smashing Eras Tour. However, with the album finally out (including 15 additional tracks that came on a surprise double album, called The Anthology), it’s clear that many of these songs are actually about the singer’s whirlwind relationship with the 1975 frontman Matty Healy.
All throughout The Tortured Poets Department, Swift seems to be revisiting her brief dalliance with Healy, and there are Easter eggs and clues to spare. Ahead, we break down all the evidence that points to Healy, but you can decide for yourself by listening to each track and reading the full lyrics below.
1) The Tortured Poets Department
To begin, let’s take a look at the album’s title track, “The Tortured Poets Department.” Once thought to be an allusion to a group chat between Alwyn, Paul Mescal, and Andrew Scott, it now becomes evident that this might actually be a reference to Healy.
The most obvious indication is in the lines, “I scratch your head, you fall asleep / Like a tattooed golden retriever,” referring to Healy’s many tattoos (of which Alwyn has none). Then there’s the already-viral line about Charlie Puth: “You smokеd, then ate seven bars of chocolate / We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist.” Back in 2018, Healy tweeted about his love for Puth, writing, “That Charlie Puth and Boyz II Men track is harrrrrd,” seemingly in reference to the song “If You Leave Me Now.”
Meanwhile, typewriters have been a recurrent motif throughout the album rollout, and another line from the album’s title track goes: “You left your typewriter at my apartment / Straight from the tortured poets department.” Fans were quick to retrieve a video of Healy from 2018, where he tells GQ about his love of the vintage typography tools. “I really like typewriters as well. I don’t have one with me because that is really impractical,” he says. “And the thing is with typewriters and writing with pen to paper, there’s a kind of element of commitment that goes with the ceremony of it, therefore, it requires you to concentrate a bit better.”
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 love the show
Who else decodes you?
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?
Nobody
No-fucking-body
Nobody
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
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 hold 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?)
Nobody
(Who’s gonna hold you? Who’s gonna hold you?)
No-fucking-body
(Who’s gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna hold you?)
Nobody
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
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?
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 hold you?
You left your typewriter at my apartment
Straight from the tortured poets department
Who else decodes you?
2) But Daddy I Love Him
But the references don’t stop there. In “But Daddy I Love Him,” a cheeky nod to a Little Mermaid quote, the pop singer talks about the public scrutiny on her relationship with Healy. “‘Stay away from her,’ the saboteurs / Protested too much / Lord knows the words we never heard / Just screeching tires of true love.”
I forget how the West was won
I forget if this was ever fun
I just learned these people only raise you
To cage you
Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best
Clutchin’ their pearls, sighing, “What a mess”
I just learned these people try and save you
’Cause they hate you
Too high in a horse for a simple girl
To rise above it
They slammed the door on my whole world
The one thing I wanted
Now I’m runnin’ with my dress unbuttoned
Scrеamin’, “But Daddy, I love him
I’m havin’ his baby”
No, I’m not, but you should see your faces
I’m tellin’ him to floor it through thе fences
No, I’m not coming to my senses
I know he’s crazy, but he’s the one I want
Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid
Tendrils tucked into a woven braid
Growin’ up precocious sometimes means
Not growin’ up at all
He was chaos, he was revelry
Bedroom eyes like a remedy
Soon enough the elders had convened
Down at the city hall
“Stay away from her,” the saboteurs
Protested too much
Lord knows the words we never heard
Just screeching tires of true love
And now I’m runnin’ with my dress unbuttoned
Screamin’, “But Daddy, I love him
I'm havin’ his baby”
No, I’m not, but you should see your faces
I’m tellin’ him to floor it through the fences
No, I’m not coming to my senses
I know he’s crazy, but he’s the one I want
I’ll tell you somethin’ right now
I’d rather burn my whole life down
Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin’ and moanin’
I’ll tell you somethin’ ’bout my good name
It’s mine alone to disgrace
I don’t cater to all these vipers dressed in empath’s clothing
God save the most judgmental creeps
Who say they want what’s best for me
Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see
Thinkin’ it can change the beat
Of my heart when he touches me
And counteract the chemistry and undo the destiny
You ain’t gotta pray for me
Me and my wild boy, and all of his wild joy
If all you want is pray for me
That’s just white noise, that’s just my choice
There’s a lot of people in town that
I bestow upon my fakest smiles
Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer
We came back when the heat died down
Went to my parents and they came around
All the wine moms are still holdin’ out, but fuck ’em, it’s over
Now I’m dancin’ in my dress in the sun and
Even my daddy just loves him
I’m his lady
And oh my God, you should see your faces
Time, doesn’t it give some perspective?
And no, you can’t come to the weddin’
I know it’s crazy, but he’s the one I want
I’ll tell you somethin’ right now
You ain’t gotta pray for me
Me and my wild boy, and all of his wild joy
(He was chaos, he was revelry)
If all you want is pray for me
That’s just white noise, that’s just my choice
Screamin’, “But Daddy, I love him
I’m having his baby”
No, I’m not, but you should see your faces
But oh my God, you should see your faces
(He was chaos, he was revelry)
(He was chaos, he was revelry)
3) Fresh Out the Slammer
In “Fresh Out the Slammer,” Swift compares the end of a long-term relationship, presumably with Alwyn, to emerging from a stint in prison. With her newfound freedom, she knows exactly who plans to rebound with. As she sings in the first verse, “Now, pretty baby / I'm runnin' back home to you / Fresh out the slammer / I know who my first call will be to.”
The line “runnin' back home to you” may imply that Healy and Swift were romantically linked prior to the singer's relationship with Alwyn, as fans have long speculated.
Now, pretty baby
I'm runnin' back home to you
Fresh out the slammer
I know who my first call will be to
(Fresh out the slammer, oh)
Another summer, takin' cover, rolling thunder
He don't understand me
Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter
He was with her in dreams
Gray and blue and fights and tunnels
Handcuffed to the spell I was under
For just one hour of sunshine
Years of labor, locks and ceilings
In the shade of how he was feeling
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
Now, pretty baby
I'm runnin' back home to you
Frеsh out the slammer
I know who my first call will be to
(Frеsh out the slammer, oh)
Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches
Toss the ashes off the ledge
As I said in my letters, now that I know better
I will never lose my baby again
My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it
Watch me daily disappearing
For just one glimpse of his smile
All those nights, he kept me goin'
Swirled you into all of my poems
Now we're at the starting line, I did my time
Now, pretty baby
I'm runnin'
To the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams (Gleams)
To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams
And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway
Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake here
At the park where we used to sit on children's swings
Wearing imaginary rings
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
4) Guilty as Sin
Then there’s “Guilty as Sin?,” where Swift sings about getting pulled into the lust of a relationship. The beginning starts off with a reference to the band the Blue Nile, which Healy has referenced as his favorite group of all time.
The song describes Swift's fantasies about a potential paramour, though the lyrics imply that she has not yet acted on her desires: “My bed sheets are ablaze / I've screamed his name / Buildin' up like waves crashin' over my grave / Without ever touchin' his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?”
In the bridge, she weighs the pros and cons of giving in to her lust, despite what the public may think of her in the aftermath: “They're gonna crucify me anyway / What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy? / If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me / They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly / I choose you and me religiously.”
Drownin' in the Blue Nile
He sent me “Downtown Lights”
I hadn’t heard it in a while
My boredom’s bone deep
This cage was once just fine
Am I allowed to cry?
I dream of crackin’ locks
Throwin’ my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks
Crashin’ into him tonight, he’s a paradox
I’m seeing visions
Am I bad or mad or wise?
What if he’s written “Mine” on my upper thigh only in my mind?
I’m slippin’, fallin’ back into the hedge maze
Oh, what a way to die
I keep recalling things we never did
Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips
Without ever touchin’ his skin
How can I be guilty as sin?
I keep these longings locked
In lowеrcase inside a vault
Someonе told me, “There's no such thing as bad thoughts
Only your actions talk”
These fatal fantasies
Giving way to labored breath takin’ all of me
We’ve already done it in my head, if it’s make-believe
Why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?
What if he’s written “Mine” on my upper thigh only in my mind?
I’m slippin’, fallin’ back into the hedge maze
Oh, what a way to die
My bed sheets are ablaze
I’ve screamed his name
Buildin’ up like waves crashin’ over my grave
Without ever touchin’ his skin
How can I be guilty as sin?
What if I roll the stone away?
They’re gonna crucify me anyway
What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?
If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me
They don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly
I choose you and me religiously
What if he’s written “Mine” on my upper thigh only in my mind?
I’m slippin’, fallin’ back into the hedge maze
Oh, what a way to die
I keep recalling things we never did
Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips
Without ever touchin’ his skin
How can I be guilty as sin?
He sent me “Downtown Lights”
I hadn't heard it in a while
Am I allowed to cry?
5) I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)
“I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” takes aim at her partner's bad boy reputation. Tellingly, the first verse hints at Healy's history of disturbing behavior that her fans had loudly disapproved of: “The jokes that he told across the bar / Were revolting and far too loud.”
Despite this, Swift repeatedly tells herself that she “can fix him.” In the second verse, she sings, “I could see it from a mile away / A perfect case for my certain skill set / He had a halo of the highest gradе / He just hadn't met me yеt.”
But, by the end of the track, Swift reconsiders, admitting to herself that “maybe I can't.”
The smoke cloud billows out his mouth
Like a freight train through a small town
The jokes that he told across the bar
Were revolting and far too loud
They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her"
When I tell 'em he's my man
But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no, really, I can
And only I can
The dopamine races through his brain
On a six-lane Texas highway
His hands so calloused from his pistol
Softly traces hearts on my face
And I could see it from a mile away
A perfect case for my certain skill set
He had a halo of the highest gradе
He just hadn't met me yеt
They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her"
When I tell 'em he's my man
But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no, really, I can
And only I can
Good boy, that's right, come close
I'll show you Heaven if you'll be an angel, all mine
Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man
No really, I can
They shook their heads sayin', "God, help her"
When I told 'em he's my man (I told 'em he's my man)
But your good Lord didn't need to lift a finger
I can fix him, no, really, I can (No, really, I can)
Woah, maybe I can't
6) The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
Swift contemplates a relationship after it has ended in “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” second-guessing the truth of her and her partner's bond. The first clue that the song is about Healy comes in the first verse, in which she sings about his “Jehovah's Witness suit,” a jab at the suits he and his fellow 1975 bandmates often perform in. She suggests the relationship met its end after her partner ghosted her: “You tried to buy some pills / From a friend of friends of mine / They just ghosted you / Now you know what it feels like.”
The chorus indicates the time period in which Swift and Healy allegedly started dating, with the two first going public around in May 2023: “
And I don't even want you back, I just want to know / If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.”
Was any of it true?
Gazing at me starry-eyed
In your Jehovah's Witness suit
Who the fuck was that guy?
You tried to buy some pills
From a friend of friends of mine
They just ghosted you
Now you know what it feels like
And I don't even want you back, I just want to know
If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal
And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give
A message to the smallest man who ever lived?
You hung me on your wall
Stabbed me with your push pins
In public, showed me off
Then sank in stoned oblivion
'Cause once your queen had come
You'd treat her likе an also-ran
You didn't measure up
In any measurе of a man
And I don't even want you back, I just want to know
If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal
And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give
A message to the smallest man who ever lived?
Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?
Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?
Were you writin' a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy?
In fifty years, will all this be declassified?
And you'll confess why you did it and I'll say, "Good riddance"
'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden
I would've died for your sins, instead, I just died inside
And you deserve prison, but you won't get time
You'll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars
You crashed my party and your rental car
You said normal girls were boring
But you were gone by the morning
You kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing
And in plain sight you hid
But you are what you did
And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive
The smallest man who ever lived
Joel is the editorial and social media assistant for HarpersBAZAAR.com, where he covers all things celebrity news. When he steps away from the keyboard, you can likely find him singing off-key at concerts, scavenging thrift stores for loud wardrobe staples, or perusing bookstores for the next great gay romance novel.
As an associate editor at HarpersBAZAAR.com, Chelsey keeps a finger on the pulse on all things celeb news. She also writes on social movements, connecting with activists leading the fight on workers' rights, climate justice, and more. Offline, she’s probably spending too much time on TikTok, rewatching Emma (the 2020 version, of course), or buying yet another corset.
