
		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>