Lawnchair

This song was written when I returned home to California from my dad's funeral. I couldn't adjust to my new world where there was no best friend, or dad around. I don't know how the rest of humanity gets through this shit, it's really fucking painful and just doesn't seem right or just...or at the least bit sane...to have someone love you unconditionally their entire life, then rip them away. He was strong, kind, compassionate, just...and tender enough to have any baby he ever met in the palm of his hand within minutes...he would use his impression of Donald Duck to win kids over time and again.

He had 6 of his own, and my sisters all gave him grandkids. He was consistently the best man in the room wherever he went. He did the dad thing to perfection, that is why he is so sorely missed in this world that seems to be lacking good fathers, and good men for that matter anymore.

Like I said...I was in a rough spot, questioning everything...again, and this time I turned to God, who, luckily enough...was found out back in my garden, up in the sky, out at the beach, in a flock of Pelicans that left a visible golden green trail while flying North for the summer, in a man's face on 9th and Irving....who actually may be God, old...white hair...a Greatful Dead button on his camouflage hat...wherever I looked.

At times I thought I was going mad, and maybe I was...but if that's what my brain had to do to save the rest of me, God did a good job with wiring the brain to get us through shit like this. My dad's heaven probably involves white tailed deer. I'm sure if there is one, he's there...chillin' in the woods, eating peanut butter cups.

The song came about from a vision I had while sitting on a lawn chair, crying, trying to talk to my dad and not getting any response from the stars above. This overwhelming pain and suffering would not leave me, no matter where I went, who I was with, or what I did...

Writing these words down, recording the song, playing it live out here in San Francisco-has helped me get it out of myself and into the world of art, so perhaps...with any luck, someone will catch it and reflect, ponder, wonder, doubt, come to terms with...or just like the melancholy melody.

It's the first song I wrote alone, I usually work with guitarist while writing lyrics, I like to form separate melodies to theirs, and develop words as the tune evolves. For this one, I hummed the melody into a microphone then layed the vocals over top of it.

My girlfriend at the time kept nagging and bitching to "try something different" with music...so i didn't use any instruments...other than my body. The original version is on my shelf, the vocals are all done on the first take, there aren't many, but they are perfect for what they are...and how they came to be...completely spontaneous and perfectly deflating.

There is a video of a live performance on www.myspace.com/kameha under the video section. It was performed and recorded at the Riptide. My friends Lisa and Ryan videotaped it for me, Paul played guitar, and I think there is a tambourine involved...don't know if that is on the video or not...Michael Shaffor then later ripped and edited the video for me in Nashville, Tennessee.

It is being reworked for a more polished version using percussion, bass, guitar and voice...but the original version is like listening to a nerve being severed slowly in an open wound...maybe that version should be up here...in any event...here are the words to the song. It's hypnotically sung, each phrase like deep breath blown into the sea.

Lawnchair*

I look toward constellations
for signs I won't receive.
Plastic lawnchair, amphetamines-
the pain just will not ease.

Alone I speak-


he listens,


yet answers none of these-
she can't help me either,
the cat just follows me.

I need her more than ever,


her rhythm in my life-


turning my mind sideways
drowning in her light.

I love you now forever.

Please just be with me.

I have no wealth,
just passion,
and this bruised set of knees...

I look toward constellations,
for signs I won't receive-
plastic lawnchair, amphetamines...
the pain just will not ease...

(humming)

The cat just follows me...

Oh my God what's next...

**Please listen to the version on the band's web site. It's more valuable when accompanied by sound.