Grace Slick's
Voice was larger

Now
Grace Slick's
Voice is small

'Cause the mike that
Roadies gave her
She would, hardly, use at all

Her flask of bliss
She'd drink 'til she'd crawl


And if you go
Chasing vodka
With some cold grain
Alcohol

Tell 'em a Buffett
Drinkin' margaritas
Is, pukin', in the hall

Just like Grace did,
With that Kantner, Paul ...


When the men on the Airplane
Got up and told her where to go

When she'd just had some kind of scotch-booze
After lines of tootin' blow

All grace left Slick
She'd screech and crow


Illogic
And distortion
Were crawlin'
On Slick's head

And her shite mind
Was squawking rat turds
And her head steamed
Awful meds

Remember
Why she pours stout red

She's undead
She's undead