Strawberry Switchblade- Who Knows What Love Is?

Strawberry Switchblade- Who Knows What Love Is?

Sitting in my front room on a rainy afternoon, my mind turns to think of you and how I might see you soon. Then I get myself a glass of milk and a colour magazine; I flick through it slowly but the pages are unseen and I think, "Who knows what love is? I wonder if you do. Who can tell me what love is? I wish it could be you. I wish it could be you"

Sitting in my front room as the sun is going down, I'm wishing I had someone who could maybe come around. Oh but all I do is watch TV; a program I want to, but I never see it because I'm thinking about you and I think, "Who knows what love is? I wonder if you do. Who can tell me what love is? I wish it could be you. I wish it could be you"

Who knows what love is? I wonder if you do. Who can tell me what love is? I wish it could be you. I wish it could be you. Who knows?

Strawberry Switchblade is one of those little hidden pop gems that people end up overlooking as the decade drags on and drags countless artists in and out of the limelight. As I wasn't one of those who were blessed to have gotten to know and listen to them when they were still around, I think they deserve more than just a little recognition from this end of the age bracket.

Personally, I'd like to think that whereas art and music are meant to be taken in as part of a particular context, some pieces just happen to be timeless if only for the subjective value it takes on as an experience in the part of the viewer or listener. This is something I could safely say is still relevant to me and my context as of now.

I think I've been through my fair share of hope, hoping and hopelessness to be able to say I appreciate the value of actually seeing someone I want to see. That narrative of distance has done so much to make me a better person and a fuming wreckage at the same time; that said, I guess I'd know the feeling or set of feelings this piece puts forward. The song feels like it's set within a brief window of absence between one and the other, with the speaker apparently spacing out while going through the ups and downs of an idle day; unable to keep away from the thought or promise of potentially going through the experience of mutual subjectivity many of us would like to refer to as love.

It's a beautiful feeling but it's not nearly as substantial as we'd like to figure. Oh well, I guess a little wishful thinking wouldn't hurt either.

Who could tell me what love is? I wish it could be YOU.