Beautiful song penned and performed by Grace Slick. Cm Eb Bb Lather was thirty years old today, Gm F Eb They took away all of his toys. Cm Eb Bb His mother sent newspaper clippings to him, Gm F Eb About his old friends who'd stopped being boys. Gm F Ab F There was Harwitz E. Green, just turned thirty-three, Cm Gm F His leather chair waits at the bank. Gm F Ab F And Sergeant Dow Jones, twenty-seven years old, Cm Gm F Commanding his very own tank. Eb F Gm But Lather still finds it a nice thing to do, Eb F Gm To lie about nude in the sand, Eb F Gm Drawing pictures of mountains that look like bumps, F Cm And thrashing the air with his hands. C Bb But wait, oh Lather's productive you know, C Bb C He produces the finest of sounds, Bb Putting drumsticks on either side of his nose, C Bb C Cm Ab F Snorting the best licks in town, G But that's all over... Cm Eb Bb Lather was thirty years old today, Gm F Eb And Lather came foam from his tongue. Cm Eb Eb He looked at me eyes wide and plainly said, Gm F Eb Is it true that I'm no longer young? Gm F Ab F And the children call him fay-ay-mous, Cm Gm F what the old men call insane, Gm Gm Ab F And some-times he's so nay-aym-less, Cm Gm F That he hardly knows which game to play... Cm Which words to say... Gm F Cm And I should have told him, "No, you're not old." Gm F Cm F Cm And I should have let him go on...smiling...baby-wide. chords by COTH