Lather

intro : pick around : x02210 x00211 x02210 xx0033 Lather was thirty years old today They took away all of his toys. His mother sent newspaper clippings to him About his old friends who’d stopped being boys. There was Harwitz E. Green just turned thirty-three His leather chair waits at the bank. And Seargent 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 oh 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 .....Am    But {E}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 said 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 which 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.