"Lather" by Jefferson Airplane from the album "Crown of Creation" (1968)
Words and Music by Grace Slick

Acoustic Guitar (12-string), Capo III

Intro:
           
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Verse:
           
Lather was thi

          
rty years old 

today,
            
they took away

           
 all of his to

ys.
            
His mother sen

           
t newspaper cl

ippings to him
            
about his old 

              
friends who'd 

             
stopped being 


boys.
            
There was Harw

             
itz E. Green, 

             
just turned th

     
irty-three,
             
his leather ch

            
air waits at t

   
he bank.
            
And Seargent D

             
ow Jones, twen

             
ty-seven years

 
 old,
             
commanding his

        
 very own tank

.

             
But Lather sti

             
ll finds it a 


nice thing to 

do,
            
to lie about n

           
ude in the san

d.
             
Drawing pictur

             
es of mountain

       
s that look li

ke bumps,
             
and thrashing 

              
the air with h

   
is hands.


Bridge:
         
But wait, oh L

           
ather's produc

tive you know,
         
he produces th

           
e finest of so


und.
             
Putting drumst

              
icks on either

 
 side of his n

ose,
            
snorting the b

             
est licks in t

own.


Interlude:
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But that's all over...

           
E|------------
B|---------0--
G|---2---2----
D|-------3---3
A|-0---0------
E|------------

          
-|-------3----
-|-------1----
-|-------2-0--
-|---2-0-3---0
-|-0----------
-|------------

           
-|-------3----
-|---1---0----
-|-----2-----2
-|------------
-|-0----------
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-|---1---3---3
-|-------2----
-|------------
-|-0----------
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Verse:
           
Lather was thi

          
rty years old 

today,
            
and Lather cam

             
e foam from hi

  
s tongue.
            
He looked at m

             
e eyes wide an

  
d plainly said

,
            
"Is it true th

             
at I'm no long

   
er young?"
            
And the childr

            
en call him fa


mous,
             
what the old m

        
en call insane

.
           
And sometimes 

           
he's so namele

ss,
             
That he hardly

          
 knows what ga

me to play,
      
which words to

 say.

              
And I should h

             
ave told him, 


"No, you're no

t old."
             
And I should h

            
ave let him go

             
 on...smiling.

  
..babywide.


Outro:
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