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Lather
Cm Eb Bb Gm F Cm
Lather was 30 years old today, they took away all of his toys.
Cm Eb Bb
His mother sent newspaper clippings to him
Gm F Cm
About his old friends who'd stopped being boys (paper dolls!).
Gm F Ab
There was Howard C. Green, just turned 33 -
Eb Bb F
His leather chair waits at the bank.
Gm F Ab
And Sergeant Dow Jones, 27 years old -
Eb Bb F
Commanding his very own tank.
Eb F Gm Eb
But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do to lie
F Gm
About nude in the sand
Eb F Gm
Making pictures of mountains that looked like bumps
F Cm
And thrashing the air with his hands.
C Bb
But wait, old Lather’s productive, you know -
C Bb C
- he produces the finest of sounds.
C Bb
Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose,
C Bb C
Snorting the best licks in town.
Ïðîèãðûø: Cm | Eb | Bb | Cm
Gm Cm
But that's all over. (Child!)
Lather was 30 years old today
And Lather came foam from his tongue.
He looked at me, eyes wide, & plainly say,
"Is it true that I'm no longer young?" (Mommy?)
And the children call him famous -
What the old men call insane.
Gm F Ab
And sometimes he’s so nameless,
Eb Bb F
He hardly knows what game to play,
Cm
What words to say.
Eb F Gm
And I should have told him, "No, you're not old."
Eb F Gm
And I should have let him go on-
F Gm
- smiling very wide.
Êîäà: Cm | Gm | G
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