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Lather
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Jefferson Airplane
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1
Lather was thirty years old today.
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They took away all of his toys.
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His mother sent newspaper clippings to him,
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About his old friends who'd stopped being boys.
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There was Harwitz E. Green, just turned thirty-three,
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His leather chair waits at the bank.
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And Sergeant Dow Jones, twenty-seven years old,
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Commanding his very own tank.
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But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do,
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To lie about nude in the sand,
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Drawing pictures of mountains that look like bumps
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And thrashing the air with his hands.
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But wait, ol' Lather's productive, you know,
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He produces the finest of sound,
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Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose,
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Snorting the best licks in town,
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But that's all over...
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Lather was thirty years old today
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And lather came foam from his tongue.
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He looked at me, eyes wide, and plainly saying,
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"Is it true that I'm no longer young?"
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And the children call him famous,
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What the old men call insane.
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And sometimes, he's so nameless,
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That he hardly knows what game to play,
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Which words to say.
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And I should have told him, 'No, you're not old. '
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And I should have let him go on... Smiling... Babywide.
Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit, Live ...
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