Beautiful song penned and performed by Grace Slick.
Cm Eb Bb
Lather was thirty years old today,
Gm F Eb
They took away all of his toys.
Cm Eb Bb
His mother sent newspaper clippings to him,
Gm F Eb
About his old friends who'd stopped being boys.
Gm F Ab F
There was Harwitz E. Green, just turned thirty-three,
Cm Gm F
His leather chair waits at the bank.
Gm F Ab F
And Sergeant Dow Jones, twenty-seven years old,
Cm Gm F
Commanding his very own tank.
Eb F Gm
But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do,
Eb F Gm
To lie about nude in the sand,
Eb F Gm
Drawing pictures of mountains that look like bumps,
F Cm
And thrashing the air with his hands.
C Bb
But wait, oh Lather's productive you know,
C Bb C
He produces the finest of sounds,
Bb
Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose,
C Bb C Cm Ab F
Snorting the best licks in town,
G
But that's all over...
Cm Eb Bb
Lather was thirty years old today,
Gm F Eb
And Lather came foam from his tongue.
Cm Eb Eb
He looked at me eyes wide and plainly said,
Gm F Eb
Is it true that I'm no longer young?
Gm F Ab F
And the children call him fay-ay-mous,
Cm Gm F
what the old men call insane,
Gm Gm Ab F
And some-times he's so nay-aym-less,
Cm Gm F
That he hardly knows which game to play...
Cm
Which words to say...
Gm F Cm
And I should have told him, "No, you're not old."
Gm F Cm F Cm
And I should have let him go on...smiling...baby-wide.
chords by COTH