Steve Simpson

 
 

Dusty Lawn Chairs CD 2013

Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

I can't thank Dave Johnson enough for his beautiful string accompaniment on this song. He put his whole soul into it.

Lyrics

Roofing my house with my daddy, Just like fifteen years ago and fifteen before that, He said, “Next time check that vent that we added.” Our eyes met for an instant, then filled with more than sweat. Chorus Life goes on, life goes on, Even after loved ones are gone, The day after I’m laid to rest, The sun will rise in the east and set in the west, Kids will hug their mothers, Little girls will bug their brothers, A day like any other, Life goes on. Somewhere in my veins is great grandpa Potter, Though I never knew him, he lives here just the same, I gave his smile to my daughter, I’m an ever-living link in a never-ending chain. (Repeat Chorus) Sweethearts will kiss their lovers, And guys will hog the covers, A day like any other, Life goes on. Some folks preach destruction and the end of life on earth, But I just can’t believe that God would waste a whole week’s work. (Repeat Chorus) But kids, there’ll be no sorrow, We never own, we only borrow, So take us all with you tomorrow, Life goes on. Life goes on. Steve: vocals, guitar Dave Johnson: violin, viola, cello
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

When I was a child, living in Rock Hill, South Caroling, my parents dragged lawn chairs out into the front yard and sat in them. Neighbors would see them out and come over with their chairs. Before long the yard was full of lawn chairs filled with adults talking to each other about life, while all of the kids ran around playing with each other. This song is about that feeling of community and sharing.

Lyrics

As I put away the mower, The front wheels knocked over, A lawn chair I’d folded years before. The dust flew when I grabbed it, And when I felt that woven plastic, For a moment I was back in ‘64. Playing in the front yard with all the neighbor kids, As grownups in lawn chairs talked like grownups did. I could hear old widow Dixon, Kindly thank my dad for fixing, That gutter that kept dripping, on her porch. And I could feel my ears a’burning, From all those smiling faces turning, When mom announced that “A” I earned on my report. Then all the men stood and crossed the street to Jackie’s yard, And helped Mr. Guinn mount a hitch on his new car. Chorus Now it’s not some crazy terrorist that threatens us, And it’s not some desert oil well that weakens us, It’s not some hurricane or virus that makes us die alone, It’s dusty lawn chairs. So I took four chairs and hosed ‘em, And set ‘em up out near the road and, Sat down and watched folks going quickly home. My neighbor pulled into his driveway, He looked stunned when I called, “Hi, Dave,” He walked over and said, “My, it’s been so long.” He said, “My Cindy passed a year ago today,” He glanced at his big dark house, sat down and stayed. Then the Johnsons heard the chatter, Came out to see what was the matter, Then the Bakers brought young Adam and wet chairs. One by one they kept on coming, Til my front yard was a’humming, With the sound of folks relearning how to care. Then Dottie said, “I guess I’ve gotta paint my house again,” Then I could hear a sweet, sweet chorus of, “Count me in.” (Repeat chorus) In your yard you’ll find a garden hose, Take that weapon and defeat our biggest foe, Dusty lawn chairs, Dusty lawn chairs. Steve: vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: bass guitar, piano River Guerguerian: percussion Dave Johnson: mandolin, fiddle
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

I started writing this song at The Swannanoa Gathering, a music camp for adults that I have attended almost every summer since 2002. I came home and told Misty that I had started working on a song about some of the talents that women have that men don't have, and that we men might sometimes envy. I told her that I would have to walk a tightrope with this song, to make it clear that I am happy being a man. I hope I accomplished that. Sometimes people refer to this as my "nipple" song!!

Lyrics

You can cry, with no fear of being caught, When pain’s inside, you can open up and talk it out, That must be so nice. You’ve got friends, not just buddies talking sports, They breathe you in, and when you’re all mixed up, they sort you out, I want that sweet advice. Girl, this confession that I’m about to make, Don’t you even think about taking the wrong way, ‘cause... I like losing my shirt when I mow, And I like writing my name in the snow, Girl, I’m so happy God made me a dude, But occasionally I wanna be....you. You can clean, and talk to clients on the phone, While watching e! and fixing lunch and buying clothes, online, I want to multi-task. You recall, every birthday, every name, You know them all, every gift you ever gave, and what size, While my brain says, “Don’t ask!” Girl, this confession that I’m about to make, Don’t you even think about taking the wrong way, ‘cause... I like rubbing my stubbly chin, And I like lifting big weights at the gym, Girl, I’m so happy God made me a dude, But occasionally I wanna be....you. I wanna be you. You’re in touch with yourself more and more, I still don’t know what my nipples are for, But, still.... I like throwing a rock at a can, And I like catching a bug in my hand, Girl, I’m so happy God made me a dude, But occasionally I wanna be ... Getting out of a speeding ticket in the blink of an eye, I wanna be... Lounging in the bathtub, sipping on a beverage, reading my favorite magazine from cover to cover, with the door locked, ignoring the phone, Occasionally, I wanna be you. Steve: lead vocals, harmony vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano River Guerguerian: percussion Eliot Wadopian: upright bass Dave Johnson: mandolin
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

One day I was telling someone about something that happened to me as a child, one of those family stories that we all remember and enjoy reliving, but I couldn't remember an important detail. All of a sudden it hit me that there was no one left to ask, that those stories live in my memory alone now. This song came out of that realization.

Lyrics

My daddy was the best at family stories, But it would take all four of us to fill in all the blanks, Like the time he brought two ice cream cones home for us, But both Ron and I claimed the chocolate one instead of saying thanks. Dad turned and stormed right through the bathroom door, We heard a flush, and in we rushed, but those ice creams were no more. Chorus Family stories, every family has them. Family stories, for us they’re fun to tell, They might be boring, and to the world they might not matter, But to us, they’re the stuff of life itself. When my brother passed our stories lost his teasing, Then with daddy all the color went, and our favorite funny parts, My mom and I tried to keep the stories breathing, Then one lonely, cold October night our stories lost their heart. Now I’m thinking about those ice creams from the past, And what flavor was that other cone, but there’s no one to ask. (Repeat Chorus) Now they’re laughing telling stories by the gates, For those blanks that need my filling in, well, they’ll just have to wait. Family stories, every family has them. Family stories, for us they’re fun to tell, They might be boring, and to the world they might not matter, But to us, they’re the stuff - The laughs, the tears, the joys, the love - To us, they’re the stuff of life itself. Steve: lead vocals, harmony vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano, bass guitar, guitar Dave Johnson: fiddle

Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

We have all battled with modern packaging. This song is my take on it.

Lyrics

I bought my son a little Matchbox car for Christmas, Like the ones I had way back when. I thought, “I’ll take it out and play with it, he’ll never know the difference, ‘Cause when I’m done I’ll put it right back in.” So I tried to gently pry apart the plastic sheets that held it, First with fingers, then a butter knife. When that failed, I looked closer, the plastic was like welded, But this consumer had just begun to fight. Chorus Packaging, what’s up with packaging, You can’t open, can’t shut it, can’t even freakin’ cut it, Get your hack saw clean, give that ax a swing, And fill that chainsaw up with gasoline, here comes the packaging. I tried trimming ‘round the edges with my orange-handled scissors, But the plastic was so thick they jammed and bent. So I stormed out to the workshop, got a hammer and a chisel, And banged and cussed, but not a dent. So I put a brand-new razor in my box cutter, And slammed that tiny toy to the table top. But the blade slipped off the plastic, to a finger, and another, And I wrapped ‘em in my shirt til the bleeding stopped. (Repeat chorus) I plugged in my buzz saw, and revved it up to screaming, Then sparks and parts and plastic flew. When the dust started clearing and my eyes started seeing, I’d cut that cursed car, slap in two. But each half of that auto was still encased in plastic, Now two packages, both intact, And each half of that Chevy was still firmly fastened, With a locking pull tie around the back. (Repeat chorus) I bought my son another Matchbox car for Christmas, And it hit me, they named this sucker right. So I wrapped that evil package with a box of kitchen matches, A blowtorch and a stick of dynamite. Packaging, what’s up with packaging. Steve: vocals, guitar Eliot Wadopian: upright bass Dave Johnson: mandolin, fiddle
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

I don't mind taking risks, but there's one risk I'm not going to take. The consequences of being wrong are just too great for me.

Lyrics

There’s a chance that when I’m gone I’ll just cease to be, And there’s a chance that Noah’s Ark was just a child’s fantasy, There’s a chance. It’s like I’ve been rolling some dice, With nothing but black on all sides, but... There’s a chance I’ll know my name for all eternity, And there’s a chance I’ll feel again my mother’s arms around me, There’s a chance. I’ve watched that wheel spinning ‘round, Now it’s time to lay my money down. So what’s to lose, so much to gain, Life forever with no pain, Don’t ask me why I’d wait so long, To take a stand that can’t go wrong, So no matter what the odds, I’ll take my chances on God. There’s a chance that that big bang was just a thought of His, And there’s a chance He gave His Son just so I could live, There’s a chance. I might reach heaven some day, And that gives me peace along the way. So what’s to lose, so much to gain, Life forever with no pain, Don’t ask me why I’d wait so long, To take a stand that can’t go wrong, So no matter what the odds, I’ll take my chances... ‘Cause no other has such love, And all the answers... So no matter what the odds, I’ll take my chances on God, I’ll take my chances on God, He took His chances on me, So I’ll take my chances on God. Steve: lead vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano, organ, bass guitar, guitar River Guerguerian: percussion Tania Hancheroff: harmony vocals
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

God can heal anything.

Lyrics

As we flew to Toledo for a last-ditch marriage workshop, We wondered in silence, is there any hope? But after four days of fighting and ten years of damage, We were both certain the answer was no. Defeated, we headed for the airport, Distracted, I made a wrong turn, Or maybe, we found our destination, When we rounded a curve and there we were... At Lake Erie, alive and strong, Once it was nearly, dead and gone, Then God said hear me, this is wrong, To waste this gift is a sin, If you’ll stop pouring poison in, I’ll make it whole again, And He did. I said let’s stop for a minute and we walked down to the water, That was once so polluted man could never heal, As we watched the bass jumping and we smelled lilies blooming, We heard God speaking, and Lake Erie grew still. We held hands and bowed our heads together, We promised to leave the past to Him, We threw all our anger in the water, And right there began our love again... At Lake Erie, alive and strong, Once we were nearly, dead and gone, Then God said hear me, this is wrong, To waste this gift is a sin, If you’ll stop pouring poison in, I’ll make it whole again, And He did. Now any time we feel disconnected and we’re in trouble again, We hop a plane and everything looks better once we get our toes in... To Lake Erie, alive and strong, Once we were nearly, dead and gone, Then God said hear me, this is wrong, To waste this gift is a sin, If you’ll stop pouring poison in, I’ll make it whole again, And He did. We kept our eyes on Him, And He did, And He did, He did. Steve: lead vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano, organ, guitar, bass guitar River Guerguerian: percussion Tania Hancheroff: harmony vocals
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

Sometimes we put too much pressure on our children to excell in sports.

Lyrics

Scotty scooped a grounder and drilled that pill to first, Pumped his fist into the air, slapped his glove into the dirt. It was pre-game warmups, when he could run around, He laughed and slid and watched a bug, but then his dad sat down. The umpire cried, “Play ball,” but Scotty rode the bench, He sat for five innings, peeked at his dad, his jaw was clenched, So Scotty tugged on his coach’s pants, and said, Chorus Let me play, I’ve gotta play, There’s something you don’t understand, And I don’t know how to say, But, please, just let me play. The pitcher fired a bullet, and Scotty took a swing, Above the crowd he heard his dad yell, “Boy, how could you miss that thing?” Another pitch was on him, and Scotty swung again, He heard his dad scream, “Don’t strike out, we’ve got to win.” Tears fell onto home plate, the bat slipped from his hands, He turned and walked back to the fence, found his daddy in the stands, Looked in his eyes, then he began, (Repeat chorus) By the creeks and anthills, as grownups call, “We’re late,” Children beg for scraps of childhood to do what just can’t wait. (Repeat chorus) I saw myself that morning in little Scotty’s tears, I vowed to live my own life and conquer my own fears. Now I tuck in my new jersey, pick up a softball bat, See little Scotty look up from the legos in his lap, and say, “Get a hit, dad.” Steve: lead vocals, harmony vocals, guitar Eliot Wadopian: upright bass Dave Johnson: mandolin, fiddle
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

In May of 2011, we had thousands of cicadas flying around in the trees in our back yard. Their mating song would go through a cycle of being soft, then louder and louder til it got so loud you could hardly hear anything else if you were on our deck. My mother-in-law Susan was visiting one day and she started calculating how old we would all be when the cicadas return in 13 years. It was a sobering moment. Out of that moment came this song.

Lyrics

Sitting on our deck in the warm May breeze, Listening to a chorus of cicadas in the trees, My off-handed math stirs a silent fear, Will I be here to hear them when they’re back in 13 years? Then I squeeze your hand and say, Now I treasure every day. Our baby maple trees are growing higher, Soon they’ll hold a hammock where we’ll nap when I retire, First we’ll see North Spain, find your family there, Then six months in Barbados, I might learn to braid your hair. Oh, I mailed that check today, Our tango class is a month away. Chorus Now we’re paying for dance lessons, Saving for Barbados, Planning for siestas, And hoping for... cicadas. We met late in life, especially mine, That baggage left behind us was all full of precious time, But do you hear that song of life in the trees, Just six weeks in the sunshine, but God gives all they need. So let’s seize each day the way they live, And let’s hope we’ll be right here to hear their kids. (Repeat Chorus) Before you my hours seemed like days, and days, You kissed me and years flew by like sweet dreams that slip away. And now we’re paying for dance lessons, Saving for Barbados, Planning for siestas, And hoping for, praying for... cicadas. Steve: vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: bass guitar, piano, nylon string guitar River Guerguerian: percussion

Faith

03:33
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

Misty and I took a 6-week class at church on how to have a faith-based marriage. One week our assignment was to write each other a love letter. Instead of a letter, I wrote this song.

Lyrics

Many times you’ve watched me jump right off this cliff, And every time I crawl back and promise you this, I won’t do that again, But then I do. And now you’re here beside me way up on the brink, You tie your love around me and you don’t even think, You just tie the other end, Around you. ‘Cause when the world tells you to run and play it safe, In your eyes I find all I’ve needed ....faith. A ship without an anchor, a tree without a root, And every little breeze pulled me farther from the truth, At the mercy of the winds, Of doubt. I saw you at a distance, with sorrow on all sides, But joy was on your face, and there was something in your eyes, And I knew what I had been, Without. ‘Cause when the world told me that God was a charade, In your eyes I found all I needed....faith. Your faith in me, your faith in God, pulled me through, Now there’s something God and I will always have in you....faith, faith. You tie your love around me and you don’t even think....faith, But joy was on your face, and there was something in your eyes....faith, What God and I will always have in you....faith, faith. Steve: lead vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano, organ, bass guitar River Guerguerian: percussion Dave Johnson: banjo, mandolin Tania Hancheroff: harmony vocals
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

A love story.

Lyrics

A thief broke into Mary
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Lyrics

My baby’s not an appetizer, She’s not a salad or a bowl of soup, And I don’t need to supersize her, She fills me up with love she gives me, And I’ll take more with me, For tomorrow too. Chorus Now I’ve got a girl for my years on this world, God, how I love her so. And I’ve got a love for those eons above, now that, I’ve got a love to go. There must be neighborhoods in heaven, With little houses that are built for two, Just for connected souls to live in, We’ll go and find us our own place there, And spend golden days there, When this life is through. (Repeat Chorus) I used to hope for anniversaries of 50, 60 years at best, But now I’m planning on at least a hundred million gazillion years of happiness. (Repeat Chorus) Steve: vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano River Guerguerian: percussion Eliot Wadopian: upright bass

Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

A fun little song about a guy who doesn't have a clue!

Lyrics

I met a girl at the bowling alley Friday, Bowling in the lane right next to mine, And I could tell that it impressed her quite a bit, When I nailed my all-time high of 59. Well, I asked her ten times for her number, Then I figured she must be a little deaf, So I said my name in a loud manner ‘til she wrote it in her planner, Then she got real excited and left. Chorus She wrote my name with a pencil, Though I offered her my naked lady pen, She wrote my name with a pencil, And I’m sure I’ll be seeing her again, Well, I’m sure I’ll be seeing her again. I met a girl at the skating rink on Sunday, Clinging to the rail right next to me, I could feel our hearts attract when I landed on her back, With the Pink Panther pads on my knees. Well, I must be one heck of a teacher, ‘Cause it was all I could do to keep up, But I followed her around ‘til she wrote my number down, Then she played hide and seek, is that cute or what? (Repeat Chorus) I met a girl at the Dairy Queen on Tuesday, Standing in line in front of me, I could hear her heart rate climb when I bummed a dime, For some sprinkles on my chili cheese. She found a table and I sat down beside her, But she was hyper, and we moved three times, While everybody looked she finally wrote me in her book, Then she dumped her food and left, but it tasted fine. (Repeat Chorus) I’m sure I’ll be seeing them, I’m sure I’ll be seeing them, I’m sure I’ll be seeing them again. Steve: lead vocals, guitar River Guerguerian: percussion Eliot Wadopian: upright bass Dave Johnson: banjo, dobro, mandolin Tania Hancheroff: harmony vocals
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Story

I have three wonderful grown children - Blake, Lydia and Scott, who I love beyond words. And now I have a fourth wonderful child, Baxter, the sweetest little girl on the planet, who I love the same as if she were my biological child. This song is about Baxter and the love I have for her.

Lyrics

Two boys, one girl, no wife for me, Then they got grown, And they got gone, And I got lonely. I met your mom, and you let me stay, You taught me, That family, Is more than DNA. Chorus They say blood runs thicker than water, And it’s true, we’re not blood, But through my heart flows one more daughter now, And nothing runs thicker than love. Half child, half grown, all tender heart, I look inside, Your big brown eyes, And, my, how wise they are. That laugh, that look, that smile so sweet, Take all your nice, Add mama’s spice, And now my life’s complete. (Repeat Chorus) Your heart had a void in it, and mine did, too, God filled yours up with me, and mine with you. (Repeat Chorus) Through my heart flows one more daughter now, And nothing runs thicker than love. Two boys, two girls, and one great wife for me. Steve: lead vocals, harmony vocals, guitar Chris Rosser: piano, organ, bass guitar River Guerguerian: percussion

You

03:55
Steve Simpson
0000-00-00

Lyrics

 

So many roads to choose, so many years ago,

Somehow I chose the few that seemed to go nowhere,
The street of loneliness, and heartbreak avenue, 
Where all my hopes were left rising in smoke.
So many roads to choose, so many years ago,
Somehow I chose the few that seemed to go nowhere,
The street of loneliness, and heartbreak avenue,
Where all my hopes were left rising in smoke. 
But I’d walk those same roads, now that I know,
It’s those road that led me here to.... 
You. 
I searched a thousand eyes, for two to let me in,
I asked Jesus how to find that one connection,
I dreamed of talking late, and touching all night long,
I almost saw your face and smelled your neck. 
But the years slipped away, and I almost lost faith,
Then out of a misty dream walked.... 
You.
You. 
And now I’ve found the one I've longed for,
The one I live for, would die for, was born for.... 
You.
You. 
So come make me whole, come quench my soul,
I promise forever I'll love.... 
You.
You.
You.
Steve: lead vocals, guitar
Chris Rosser: piano, bass guitar
River Guerguerian: percussion
Dave Johnson: violin, viola, cello, mandolin
Tania Hancheroff: harmony vocals