I've had this song noodling about in my head for many years. It is about the sense that grows as one gets older, that one might never fall in love again, or at least, never again experience the kind of Passion that seemed so necessary and important in youth. Whether or not it was either of these things when we had it is an open question.
Just once more before Summer turns to Autumn
I long to drink deep again the heady scent,
The belladonna sweetness, the daytura reek
Of the Passionflower
Passionflower, bloom in my heart once more
Save me from myself, my stupid longings
Like an addiction, you simplify it all
Though I know you to be a nightshade that bears no edible fruit
I long to feel your roots
Sink deep into my heart
Even though I know the pain when they're ripped loose
Will tear me apart
Passion is a weed, a bramble
Like cleavers, blackberry, burrvine, lantana
Like wandering trad, it makes my poor old dog itch
To see me in its throes
But Just once more before Summer turns to Autumn
I long to drink deep again the heady scent,
The belladonna sweetness, the daytura reek
The long, pale, sickly flower
That makes my dream seem real
Your vine runs everywhere, Passionflower
Binding and smothering, Passionflower
The rootstock defeats the graft and runs amok
You threaten to tear down my old grey house, Passionflower
But I know you have a limited life
So go ahead, choke everything and then yourself
Leaving only the plain, healing plants
Dock and nettle protect the damaged soil
Blackwood feathered seedlings
Dreaming of a canopy
Where I will hide my head
Nostalgia is a poison, treacherous memory
I drift in dreams recalling with wistful fondness
The loves that hurt me most
Recalling the glorious night of passion but not the gritty dawn
The sweat but not the stain
The feast but not the bill
If lust for life is really just a lust for love
Of a love of lust
Or a love of something more dangerous than lust
Because lust, after all
Can be satisfied
But Just once more before Summer turns to Autumn
I long to drink deep again the heady scent,
The belladonna sweetness...
I find in this my fifty-somethingth year
hat I'm frustrated in my explorations
By the lack of fellow adventurers
Bold enough to cover uncharted terrain
While my contemporaries are settling down
With their fields and their farms
I long to rush into the arms
Of the dragons drawn on the white portions of the map
But even in these unsounded oceans
I would always find a way back home to you
No shipwreck could ever be so great
As to stop me lashing a raft together
And sailing back home to you
But Just once more before Summer turns to Autumn
I long to drink deep again the heady scent,
The belladonna sweetness..
Passion is a virus, I've heard it said
That no one would have fallen in love
If they hadn't read about it first
Who's idea is this anyway?
It's not a good basis for family
It's not conducive to stability
It's certainly not what you'd call sanity
It seems to breed more misery than happiness
Yet still we crave it
We here in the West
That have nothing better to do
But to beat our breasts
And sigh, and sigh, and sigh
For the heady scent
Of the Passionflower
credits
from Captains of Industry,
released December 17, 2023
Penelope Swales: Lead and backing vocals, Guitar, Stomp box
Penelope Swales has been articulating the human condition with passion and humour for 30+ years. She sings about politics,
love, friendship, the unbreakable bond between us and dogs and the impact of the Internet on society. She won the 2019 Alistair Hulett Songs for Social Justice Award with “Cambridge Analytica”. “The Ides of March in Christchurch" was short-listed for the same award in 2020....more
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