7.21.2023 - Swiftie

7.21.2023
Swiftie

We run it back again,
Steady screaming like Swifts best Stan's,
Who's that girl? She looks pristine.
Taylor keeps her stockings clean,
But she catching bodies day after day,
Six kills shots per album min they say.
Packs them in the stadiums,
Even the nosebleeds costing premiums.
Spotify plays the Taylor's Version,
Anything else would just be poison.
Thought they could pull it fast,
Skip the fallout and the concussive blast,
Tried to take her empire? Built again.
Did her wrong in love? Hope you like pain.
Taylor out here saying she's been pressed,
They should've known that she is hashtag Blessed.
Go on a tour, fans will riot for less,
Sold out hour one fans are feeling stressed.
Taylor - Patron Saint of Broken Things,
Nimbly dancing upon our heartstrings,
Blonde hair in a pony bouncing like a spring,
Got those fans locked round fingers like a ring.
Some rules to govern ourselves inside her show,
Before we beg, steal, or try to borrow.
Taylor owes you zero,
You're the one who made her your hero.