Lather

Lather Lyrics

Song	Lather
Artist	Jefferson Airplane
Album	Journey: The Best of Jefferson Airplane [DJ Specialist]
Download	Image LRC TXT

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

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

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

Lather Lyrics

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