Lather

(intro) Am Dm7 Am G

Am         C            G
Lather was thirty years old today,
     Em        D          C
They took away all of his toys.
    Am          C         G
His mother sent newspaper clippings to him,
          Em                D             C
About his old friends who'd stopped being boys.

         Em         D           F             D
There was Harwitz E. Green, just turned thirty-three,
     Am           Em           D
His leather chair waits at the bank.
    Em            D             F          D
And Seargent Dow Jones, twenty-seven years old,
 Am            Em       D
Commanding his very own tank.

    C            D          Em
But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do,
   C         D           Em
To lie about nude in the sand,
        C           D              Em
Drawing pictures of mountains that look like bumps,
    D                          Am
And thrashing the air with his hands.

    A                 G
But wait, oh Lather's productive you know,
   A            G         A
He produces the finest of sound,
                             G
Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose,
  A          G             A
Snorting the best licks in town ..... (Am G D)
    E
But that's all over... ( Am Dm7 Am G )

Am         C            G
Lather was thirty years old today,
    Em          D             C
And Lather came foam from his tongue.
   Am           C             G
He looked at me eyes wide and plainly said,
      Em            D         C
Is it true that I'm no longer young?

        Em       D        F  D
And the children call him famous,
         Am      Em    D
What the old men call insane,
    Em  D             F  D
And sometimes he's so nameless,
        Am     Em          D
That he hardly knows which game to play...
      C
Which words to say...

      C           D         Em
And I should have told him, "No, you're not old."
      C           D          Em   D            Am
And I should have let him go on...smiling...babywide.