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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Grateful Dead
Performer
Jerry Garcia
Vocals
Phil Lesh
Vocals
Brent Mydland
Keyboards
Bill Kreutzmann
Drums
Mickey Hart
Drums
Bob Weir
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jerry Garcia
Songwriter
Robert Hunter
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jerry Garcia
Producer
Phil Lesh
Producer
Brent Mydland
Producer
Bill Kreutzmann
Producer
Mickey Hart
Producer
Bob Weir
Producer
John Cutler
Producer
Lyrics
I told Althea I was feeling lost
Lacking in some direction
Althea told me upon scrutiny
That my back might need protection
I told Althea that treachery
Was tearing me limb from limb
Althea told me, now cool down boy
Settle back easy, Jim
You may be Saturday's child all grown
Moving with a pinch of grace
You may be a clown in the burial ground
Or just another pretty face
You may be the fate of Ophelia
Sleeping and perchance to dream
Honest to the point of recklessness
Self-centred to the extreme
Ain't nobody messin' with you but you
Your friends are getting most concerned
Loose with the truth, maybe its your fire
Baby I hope you don't get burned
When the smoke has cleared, she said
That's what she said to me
You're gonna want a bed to lay your head
And a little sympathy
There are things you can replace
And others you cannot
The time has come to weigh those things
This space is gettin' hot
You know this space is gettin' hot
I told Althea, I'm a roving sign
That I was born to be a bachelor
Althea told me, OK that's fine
So now I'm trying to catch her
Can't talk to you without talking to me
We're guilty of the same old things
Thinking a lot about less and less
And forgetting the love we bring
Writer(s): Robert Hunter, Jerome Garcia
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