Jefferson Airplane - Lather

^AmLather was ^Cthirty years ^Gold today, They ^Emtook away ^Dall of his ^Ctoys. His ^Ammother sent ^Cnewspaper ^Gclippings to him, About his ^Emold friends who'd ^Dstopped being ^Cboys.

There was ^EmHarwitz E. ^DGreen, just ^Fturned thirty-^Dthree, His ^Amleather chair ^Emwaits at the ^Dbank. And ^EmSeargent Dow ^DJones, twenty-^Fseven years ^Dold, ^AmCommanding his ^Emvery own ^Dtank.

But ^CLather still ^Dfinds it a ^Emnice thing to do, To ^Clie about ^Dnude in the ^Emsand, Drawing ^Cpictures of ^Dmountains that ^Emlook like bumps, And ^Dthrashing the air with his ^Amhands. ^A

But ^Await, oh Lather's ^Gproductive you know, He ^Aproduces the ^Gfinest of ^Asound, Putting drumsticks on either ^Gside of his nose, [A]Snorting the [G]best licks in [A]town .....Am G D But ^Ethat's all over...

^AmLather was ^Cthirty years ^Gold today, And ^EmLather came ^Dfoam from his ^Ctongue. He ^Amlooked at me ^Ceyes wide and ^Gplainly said, Is it ^Emtrue that I'm ^Dno longer ^Cyoung'

And the ^Emchildren ^Dcall him ^Ffam^Dous, What the ^Amold men ^Emcall in^Dsane, And ^Emsome^Dtimes he's so ^Fname^Dless, That he ^Amhardly ^Emknows which ^Dgame to play... Which ^Cwords to say...

And I ^Cshould have ^Dtold him, ^Em"No, you're not old." And I ^Cshould have ^Dlet him go ^Emon...^Dsmiling...baby^Amwide.