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Stevie Nicks Contributes a Poem to Taylor Swift's 'Tortured Poets Department'

The Fleetwood Mac star provides the album's inaugural bit of poetry.

Source: MEGA

Nicks' poem appears on the physical version of 'Tortured Poets Department.'

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Released on April 20, Taylor Swift's new album, The Tortured Poets Department, contains more than a few surprises: lyrical shout-outs to Patti Smith, Charlie Puth and Dylan Thomas; the phrase "F--k me up, Florida"; and, of course...the surprise release of 15 bonus tracks mere hours after the album dropped. But perhaps the most surprising is the inclusion of a poem written by Stevie Nicks, which appears as an opening prelude on the physical version of the LP.

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Source: MEGA

Swift and Nicks duetted at the Grammy Awards in 2010.

Nicks and Swift famously duetted on Fleetwood Mac's "Rhiannon" at the Grammy Awards in 2010, and remained friends in the years following. Just last year, Nicks offered words of thanks to Swift for her song "You're on Your Own, Kid," which Nicks said helped her in the months following the death of her longtime Fleetwood Mac bandmate Christine McVie in late 2022.

“Thank you to Taylor Swift for doing this thing for me, and that is writing a song called ‘You’re On Your Own, Kid,’” Nicks said. “That is the sadness of how I feel. As long as Chris was, even on the other side of the world, we didn’t have to talk on the phone. We really weren’t phone buddies. Then we would go back to Fleetwood Mac, and we would walk in and it would be like ‘little sister, how are you?’ It was like never a minute had passed, never an argument in our entire 47 years.”

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Here's Nicks' Tortured Poets poem in full, followed by a bit of verse from Swift, which ends the album.

For T and me… by Stevie Nicks

He was in love with her

Or at least she thought so

She was broken hearted

Maybe he was too

Neither of them knew.

She was way too hot to handle

He was way too high to try

He couldn’t even see her

He wouldn’t open his eyes

She was on her way to the stars

He didn’t say goodbye

She looked back from her future

And shed a few tears

He looked into his past

And actually felt fear.

For both of them

The answers would never be

Ever clear

Don’t ask questions now

Do that later

She brings joy

He brings Shakespeare

It’s almost a tragedy

Says she

Don’t endanger me

Don’t endanger me

He really can’t answer her

He’s afraid of her

He’s hiding from her

And he knows that he’s hurting her

She tells the truth

She writes about it

She’s an informer

He’s an X-lover

There’s nothing there for her

She’s already gone

There’s nothing that can stop her

She was just flying

thru the clouds

Where he saw her

She was just making her way

To the stars

When he lost her…

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Source: MEGA

"She tells the truth / She writes about it / She's an informer' Nicks wrote.

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In Summation: Summary Poem by Taylor Swift

At this hearing

I stand before my fellow members

of the Tortured Poets Department

With a summary of my findings

A debrief, a detailed rewinding

For the purpose of warning

For the sake of reminding

As you might all unfortunately recall

I had been struck with a case

of a restricted humanity

Which explains my plea here today

of temporary insanity

You see, the pendulum swings

Oh, the chaos it brings

Leads the caged beast to do

the most curious things

Lovers spend years denying what’s ill fated

Resentment rotting away

galaxies we created

Stars placed and glued

meticulously by hand

next to the ceiling fan

Tried wishing on comets.

Tried dimming the shine.

Tried to orbit his planet.

Some stars never align.

And in one conversation, I tore down the whole sky

Spring sprung forth with dazzling freedom hues

Then a crash from the skylight

Bursting through

Something old, someone hallowed,

who told me he could be brand new

And so I was out of the oven

And into the microwave

Out of the slammer and into a tidal wave

How gallant to save the empress

from her gilded tower

Swinging a sword he could barely lift

But loneliness struck at that fateful hour

Low hanging fruit on his wine stained lips

He never even scratched the surface

of me.

None of them did.

“In summation, it was not a love affair!”

I screamed while bringing my fists

to my coffee ringed desk

It was a mutual manic phase.

It was self harm.

It was house and then cardiac arrest.

A smirk creeps onto this poet’s face

Because it’s the worst men that I write best.

And so I enter into evidence

My tarnished coat of arms

My muses, acquired like bruises

My talismans and charms

The tick, tick, tick of love bombs

My veins of pitch black ink

All’s fair in love and poetry


The Chairman

of The Tortured Poets Department


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