Althea
Composer(s): Jerry Garcia - Robert Hunter
Performer(s): Grateful Dead; Culture; Pickin' On



I told Althea I was feeling lost
Lackin' in some direction
Althea told me upon scrutiny that my
Back might need protection
I told Althea that treachery
Was tearin' me limb from limb
Althea told me, now, cool down boy
Settle back, easy Jim

You may be Saturday's child all alone
Movin' with tinge of grace
You may be a clown in the burying ground
Or just another pretty face
You my be the fate of Ophelia
Sleepin' and perchance to dream
Honest to the point of recklessness
Self-centered in the extreme

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you
Your friends are getting most concerned
Loose with the truth baby, it's your fire
Baby, I hope you don't get burned
When the smoke has cleared she said
That's what she said to me
Gonna want a bed to lay your head
And a little sympathy

There are things you can replace
And others you can not
The time has come to weigh those things
This space is getting hot
You know this space is getting hot

I told Althea I'm a roving son
And I was born to be a bachelor
Althea told me, OK, that's fine
So now I'm tryin' to catch her
Can't talk to you without talkin' to me
We're guilty of the same old thing
Thinkin' a lot about less and less
And forgetting the love we bring