The Life of a Showgirl Prologue Poem (Full Text & Meaning)
Taylor Swift knows how a good prologue can add context and set the tone for the text to follow, and her prologue poem for The Life of a Showgirl is no different. But how she revealed this particular prologue is.
Each of the album variants came with one unique poem, and one standard poem that was the same across all variants. But above some letters in the unique poems were tiny orange stars that marked the letters for “one”, “two”, “three,” etc.
When we finally collected all the poems and put them in order, we got a 6-stanza prologue poem – her longest prologue yet.
But what does this massive poem mean, how does it clue us into the themes of the album, and what does it tell us about her life behind the scenes of The Eras Tour?
I’m your Swiftie English teacher, and I’ve dissected it for you, line by line, so let’s learn all about The Life of a Showgirl through Taylor’s crucial prologue. Read the full text first, then keep scrolling to see my deep dive into each stanza.
The Life of a Showgirl Prologue Poem (Full Text)
1
“You woke up branded with the lines of pillow creases
Thunderbolted tree roots across your cheek
In turn, last night’s mascara stains
the ivory hotel pillowcase
Each one leaving their mark on the other
Looks like you’re even.
You say ‘good morning’ to them when you walk in
and they don’t correct you
As they spray vodka
on the armpits of the dancers’ costumes
We learn these tricks along the way
The flesh toned bandage wrap
Covered by skin colored fishnets
Because you will cover the wound,
No matter how deep it is.
No one ever knew.
And, baby, that’s show business for you.”
2
“Coffee. Stretch. Piano keys.
Vocal warm ups in a locker room shower.
Eyelash glue. A photo of him on the mirror.
Sweat and vanilla perfume
The cracking of joints
and the distant beat of a drum.
The curtain call.
The monotonous thrill of it all.
Plan it out so it doesn’t look planned
10 different backup plans
If your red bottomed heel breaks
you will keep strutting
Balancing on the balls of your blistered feet
Know your exits. Shoulders back. Eyes up.
Hit your marks. Your winks. Sparks.
Tell them a story like it’s an intimate dinner party.
The looks on their wondrous faces
Their expressions like mood rings
Isn’t it all so majestic?
Of course it is
It’s a lot of other things too.”
3
“Remember this city?
You’ve been here before in another life
On another tour
Remember her?
She’s got a mortgage now
Straight teeth where there’d
been metal brackets
Standing with her 8 year old daughter
You mouth ‘I know you’
In the millisecond gap in your choreography
To you, she will look exactly the same age
as the first time you saw her
She will always be 14 and a half
Remember!
Lock right back into the footwork
Any missed step is a misstep
You must remember everything
But mostly this:
The crowd is your king
Who has ruled over you for centuries Benevolently
For the most part.”
4
“Perhaps someday they will despise you again
Perhaps it is not a matter of if’
But ‘when’
They’ll re-assess your merits and then
Take a magnifying glass to the shiny bug.
Deflate all the heroes they had decided she was.
And maybe they’ll do it just because.
But you live by a strict code:
Never believe your own mythology
Never type your name into the search bar
Let the wolves howl all they want
The moon should never howl back
You know if you play it’s a losing game
So you keep yourself too busy to even learn
what’s-their-name’s name
And these are the reasons you are still somewhat sane.”
5
“He ran to his car from work to catch the flight
Missed the first act but somehow
it’s better this way. It’s just right.
Because you get to watch him make
his way through the masses
Parting the crowd like some neon Moses in a sequin sea
He is a magnet and a trampoline
The tiny bubbles in champagne
Haphazard but precise, he crash-landed next to you
Reckless, but never with your heart
If he’s in, you are too You’ve begun to feel that
Every song before was just a prayer
A wish list
He is not what you’ve been waiting for
He is more.
Why you held out
Why you left
And nothing aches suddenly
He has that effect.”
6
“Tonight all these lives converge here
The mosaics of laughter and cocktails of tears
Where fraternal souls sing identical things
And it’s beautiful
It’s rapturous
It is frightening.
It’s worth everything it has cost you
And even at your darkest or drunkest,
You couldn’t say any different
Would you?
You would choose all of it again
No matter how the story ends
With the ugliest boos or the loveliest bouquet
They say that love is a choice you make every
single
day
And that is how you love
The life
of
A showgirl”
-Taylor Swift, The Life of a Showgirl (poems included across different album variants 1-5)
Analysis of The Life of a Showgirl Prologue Poems
Let’s go through this long poem, stanza by stanza. I’ll point out lyrical references, thematic references, translate tricky lines, and tie it all back into the “showgirl” mosaic of the album.
One: “Baby, That’s Show Business”
“You woke up branded with the lines of pillow creases,” she opens the first poem, “thunderbolted tree roots across your cheek.” In this day-in-the-life of a showgirl, we begin where she begins: waking up in a hotel room, in some unnamed city. But this city – this life – have left their mark on her, even in rest.
Her language here is intentional: she’s “branded” by the soft pillows, which juxtaposes rest and relaxation with pain. The pillowcases leave “thunderbolted tree roots” across her face, which alludes to growth, as well as the “lightning strikes” of Opalite.
“In turn, last night’s mascara stains the ivory hotel pillowcase,” she continues, “Each one leaving their mark on the other. Looks like you’re even.” This soft place to land may have left its mark on her, but she also leaves her mark on it.
But here is also where showgirl Taylor meets the real Taylor. Her mascara from last night’s show stains the pillow: her showgirl life makes an imprint on her private life. There is no one without the other, and she’ll continue to contrast these two selves for the rest of the poem and album.
“You say ‘good morning’ to them when you walk in and they don’t correct you,” she says. It’s not morning, but working the night shift of a showgirl, time becomes distorted, where “midnights become my afternoons.”
As the crew sprays vodka on the costumes – an old showbiz trick that gets the odors out of difficult-to-launder garments – Taylor ponders all these ‘tricks of the trade.’
“We learn these tricks along the way”, she says, “The flesh toned bandage wrap covered by skin colored fishnets, because you will cover the wound, no matter how deep it is.” The real-life Taylor has bruises and scars that must be plastered over for her to enter her showgirl character. The audience doesn’t want to see imperfection or vulnerability, not from Taylor Swift Inc.
“No one ever knew,” she says, “And, baby, that’s show business for you.” She’s wrapped herself in deceptively realistic (“flesh-toned”) layers that hide the real person underneath. She clad herself in armor, not letting her real scars and bruises – both literal and metaphorical – show.
That’s exactly what this business requires, because the crowd will always be “chanting more,” not knowing or caring how much the real starlet inside the costume has to give.
Two: “Sweat and Vanilla Perfume”
“Coffee. Stretch. Piano keys,” the second portion of the poem begins, “Vocal warm ups in a locker room shower.” She’s prepping to become showgirl Taylor later in the day. But a locker room shower isn’t glamorous. Combined with the stretching, it reminds us that The Eras Tour was really an athletic feat. It’s messy, and sweaty, and laborious, and it only looks glam from the outside.
“Eyelash glue. A photo of him on the mirror,” she continues. Eyelash glue isn’t glamorous either, and it’s just another piece of her armor – her costume – that’s required. But as she transitions into her character, she keeps a reminder close: the photo of (I’m assuming) her boyfriend on the mirror. Reflecting back at her is her real self, and her private life and people who matter to her. But soon, as she transforms, looking back at her in the mirror will be her showgirl alter-ego.
“Sweat and vanilla perfume,” she says, describing what this backstage lair smells and sounds like, “The cracking of joints and the distant beat of a drum.” Their internal creaks – their cracking, aching joints – echo the beat of the stage that will soon beckon them front and center.
Then it’s the big moment: “The curtain call,” she says, but it’s not all excitement and fans screaming. This is just her day-to-day life, or what she calls “The monotonous thrill of it all.” This is an interesting oxymoron. Can something be both thrilling and monotonous? If you do it enough times, it becomes muscle memory.
“Plan it out so it doesn’t look planned,” she continues, “10 different backup plans.” We know our Mastermind is nothing if not a meticulous planner, and The Eras Tour was no different. Even those seemingly-spontaneous moments were likely scripted. And with a show as big and grand as this, you can bet she had a contingency plan for nearly everything. That’s show business.
“If your red bottomed heel breaks you will keep strutting,” she says, ”balancing on the balls of your blistered feet.” She calls back to a particular moment on tour when this actually did happen. But this also references long story short: “if the shoe fits, walk in it ‘til your high heels break.” The show must go on, even if the things that keep her steady crumble away.
“Know your exits. Shoulders back. Eyes up,” she continues, “Hit your marks. Your winks. Sparks.” We’re inside her internal monologue on stage, where she directs her own movements and moments. But the “exits” aren’t only “exit stage left,” they also allude to those backup plans. How can she exit this life? This character? Or will she forever have to “promise to be dazzling”?
Here’s my favorite line: “Tell them a story like it’s an intimate dinner party.” Taylor is, above all else, a storyteller. She’s also our narrator, our protagonist, our author and leading lady. But speaking in this line is showgirl Taylor: she’s putting on a performance.
She may have written these songs about her life, but in the end, they’re built to be entertainment. That’s the line between showgirl Taylor and human Taylor, and it’s a tightrope she’s always had to walk. Her life isn’t our entertainment, but some of us think it is. The line blurs.
“The looks on their wondrous faces,” our narrator observes, “Their expressions like mood rings.” She’s reading the room, and taking it all in, knowing that – any day now – their mood could turn sour like before.
“Isn’t it all so majestic?” she wonders, “Of course it is. It’s a lot of other things too.” This career she’s built is remarkable, and she couldn’t have done it without those fans in the crowd. But “it’s a lot of other things, too,” and those things she won’t name out loud.
Three: “The Crowd is Your King”
“Remember this city?” she begins the third stanza of the poem, “You’ve been here before in another life, on another tour.” Inside of showgirl Taylor, as she’s on stage, worlds begin to collide. The human Taylor inside the mask pokes out her head. Past Taylors, in past eras and lives, are all contained within, and they have their own memories.
“Remember her?” she asks herself, recalling a part of her past self, and simultaneously referring to someone in the crowd. “She’s got a mortgage now,” she says of this former friend in the audience, “Straight teeth where there’d been metal brackets, standing with her 8 year old daughter.”
This person in the crowd represents both past Taylor and her past life, long before the “life of a showgirl” took over. That Taylor grew up and had to be an adult, just like people from her small hometown grew up and moved on. This is a common theme Taylor writes about; the pain of leaving childhood behind, and wondering if you’ll ever get that magic back.
“You mouth ‘I know you’ in the millisecond gap in your choreography,” she says, human Taylor taking over for a split second. She ponders this: “To you, she will look exactly the same age
as the first time you saw her. She will always be 14 and a half.” Age 14 and a half, by the way, is the age Taylor was when she signed her first record deal. Part of her will always be that young, vulnerable girl in a risky business.
Then, she snaps herself out of it: “Remember!” This is both ‘remember how far you’ve come’ and ‘get back into character.’
“Lock right back into the footwork,” she reminds herself, pushing past Taylor and present Taylor aside, and stepping back into showgirl mode, “Any missed step is a misstep.” This is, after all, a show. The real Taylor can come out to play when showgirl Taylor has taken her final bow.
“You must remember everything,” she says both about her choreography and her life, “But mostly this: “The crowd is your king, who has ruled over you for centuries, benevolently,
for the most part.” Her fans are the reason she does it all. And while our moods might be fickle like mood rings, we’re a mostly generous bunch.
This flips the script on how her audience views her, though. Many Swifties see her as our queen, and not the other way around. But for showgirl Taylor, we rule her heart. For human Taylor, it might be another story.
Four: “The Shiny Bug”
“Perhaps someday they will despise you again,” she continues in the 4th stanza, picking up with her thoughts on the public from the last portion. “Perhaps it is not a matter of if’, but ‘when’.”
This recalls her very public “cancellation” that occurred between 1989 and reputation. It will happen again, she surmises, and she’s right. The public is fickle, and “any missed step is a misstep.” The crowd may be her king, but we’re also her judge, jury, and executioner.
“They’ll re-assess your merits and then take a magnifying glass to the shiny bug,” she says, as if merits are mercurial and not based on experience. She’s our “shiny bug” – pretty and interesting to study, but can be crushed on a whim.
At any time, we can “Deflate all the heroes they had decided she was, and maybe they’ll do it just because.” “All the heroes” recalls a line from Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus: “I turned into goddesses, villains and fools.” In her chameleon career, she’s been all of these. But all of them – all the “heroes” she’s been – can be erased with a single swipe.
“But you live by a strict code,” she explains, “Never believe your own mythology.” She creates rules for herself to survive this life: never believe the stories other people tell about you. Only believe the stories you tell yourself.
“Never type your name into the search bar,” she warns, “Let the wolves howl all they want – the moon should never howl back.” The packs of wolves on the internet are vicious, and she is the moon they love to howl at. But if she barks back, it’ll never end. It would just be very noisy.
“You know if you play it’s a losing game,” she says of this howling match, “So you keep yourself too busy to even learn what’s-their-name’s name.” People can say whatever they want, and she’ll keep trying to stay as unbothered as possible, or “unbothered ‘til” [she’s] not.”
She keeps herself busy building her empire, “And these are the reasons you are still somewhat sane.” She’s made her own rules to the game in order to survive, and most of them revolve around living in ignorant bliss. It’s the only way not to lose your mind, or become the madwoman in the attic.
Five: “Tiny Bubbles in Champagne”
“He ran to his car from work to catch the flight,” she begins the fifth stanza. While she’s on stage, her lover is making his way to her.
This contrasts with many of her previous lyrics, where she was always the pursuer or the deserted (“back and forth from New York, sneaking in your bed”, “But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willin’ you to come”, et al). This time, the love is running to her, and trying desperately to make it on time.
“Missed the first act,” she says, “but somehow it’s better this way. It’s just right.” He’s missed not only the first act of the show, but the “first act” of her life. He’s missed all the heartbreaks, all of the pain, all of the struggles in the music industry, “but somehow it’s better this way.” She learned the lessons she needed to learn in order to accept a love that is truly reciprocal. To understand what a true partnership is. This love – on this night and always – is “just right”.
“Because you get to watch him make his way through the masses,” she says, with a million eyes on her, but her eyes only on him, “Parting the crowd like some neon Moses in a sequin sea.” Moses parted the Red Sea, leading the Israelites from metaphorical death to rebirth. The seas have parted, and she’s been reborn by this “neon Moses.” In the first track, we’ll learn that, “he dug me out of my grave and saved my heart from the fate of Ophelia.”
“He is a magnet and a trampoline,” she says of this new love, “The tiny bubbles in champagne.”
He’s alluring and attractive, but also fun and child-like. He’s the life of the party, the “human exclamation point”, and something to celebrate.
“Haphazard but precise, he crash-landed next to you,” she says of their meeting, “Reckless, but never with your heart.” This romance wasn’t planned, and there were no “10 different backup plans.” He came in like an asteroid, but he didn’t crash into her: he crashed next to her. This is the opposite of another lyric: “I crashed into you, like so many wrecks do.” This isn’t a wreck; it’s kismet. It’s alchemy.
It may have been “haphazard” and “reckless” the way it began, but that’s not how it will end, because unlike the others, he’s careful with her heart. “If he’s in, you are too,” she reminds herself. Because “when you know you know, and when you don’t, you don’t.”
“You’ve begun to feel that every song before was just a prayer,” she says, looking back over her past stories of heartbreak and love and pain. But one particular song comes to mind: “please, I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy, don’t want money, just someone who wants my company.”
The Prophecy was really “a wish list.” She put it out into the universe, praying for the right partner, and the universe delivered, and then some: “He is not what you’ve been waiting for. He is more.”
He is “Why you held out” and he is “Why you left.” The idea of him is why she never settled down before this, and the idea of him is why she left previous relationships unfulfilled.
“And nothing aches suddenly,” she says, “He has that effect.” Suddenly, the empty parts of her no longer hurt. Her scars no longer cause pain, and her heartbreaks don’t matter, because – in her view – they were all leading to this.
He’s the balm that soothed her tired, achy soul. And suddenly all that pain, captured in album after album, is gone. The scars were lessons, and the lessons lead here.
Six: “Beautiful, Rapturous, Frightening”
“Tonight all these lives converge here,” she begins the sixth and final stanza. All the lives she’s outlined in the previous lines – her personal life, her showgirl life, her past life, the crowd’s life, her lover’s life – have combined to make this moment and this person, both the showgirl and the human.
This kaleidoscope of stories are “the mosaics of laughter and cocktails of tears, where fraternal souls sing identical things.” At this point in the poem, she’s both Taylor the showgirl, and Taylor the human being. It all adds up to this life – this career – that she’s crafted so carefully.
This fractured identity, reflected in the kaleidoscope imagery of the album, somehow all adds up to this. It looks different from different angles.
She looks around at this life, “And it’s beautiful, It’s rapturous, It is frightening.” She’s both in awe at what she’s built, and scared of what it’s become. We are the monster, and she is Dr Frankenstein. She holds immense power – the power to create, the power to entertain – but she’s also given us the singular power to destroy.
Still, she surmises, “It’s worth everything it has cost you.” She’s given up pieces of herself to get where she is today, because that’s what the music industry does: demands a blood sacrifice.
“And even at your darkest or drunkest,” she ponders, “You couldn’t say any different, would you?” Even in her darkest nights of the soul (much like in the Midnights album), she’d never say it wasn’t worth it. Or would she?
“You would choose all of it again,” she reassures herself, “No matter how the story ends, with the ugliest boos or the loveliest bouquet.” If she could rewind to the beginning, she’d go through all of the pain all over again if it led her to the same place.
But how will this story end? How will her career end? And how do you maintain a private life when you’ve made so much public?
That’s what this poem seems to be grappling with the most: how do you not fall off the pedestal when you’re too big to climb down? And how do you maintain privacy in the harsh spotlight? She’ll be okay either way, she surmises, no matter if she’s ushered off the stage or given a 10-minute standing ovation at the end of the show.
“They say that love is a choice you make every single day,” she closes, “And that is how you love the life of a showgirl.” If love is a choice, and this life is a choice, then she chooses to love this life.
She doesn’t say “that is how you live the life of a showgirl.” No, it’s “that is how you love the life of a showgirl.” It’s not a life that’s inherently lovable. It’s hard, and it’s grueling, and it’s sometimes impossible. But she chose it, and she continues to choose it, every single day.
She is the showgirl, but she’s also many other things. Can all these identities coexist? That’s for the album to grapple with.
All Album Prologues
