Making Pies
It's not far, I can walk
Down the block, to Table Talk
Close my eyes, make the pies all day
Plastic cap, on my hair
I used to mind, now I don't care
I used to mind now I don't care 'cause I'm gray
Did I show you this picture of my nephew
Taken at his big birthday surprise
At my sister's house last Sunday
This is Monday and I'm making pies
I'm making pies, making pies
Thursday nights, I go and type
Down to the church, for Father Mike
It gets me out, and he ain't hard to like, at all
Jesus stares at me, in my chair
With his big blue eyes, and his honey brown hair
He's looking at me, from way up there on the wall
Did I show you this picture of my sweetheart
Taken of us before the war?
Of the Greek and his Italian girl
One Sunday at the shore
We tied our ribbons to the fire escape
They were taken by the birds
Who flew home to the country
As the bombs rained on the world
Five a.m., here I am
Walking the block, to Table Talk
You could cry or die or just make pies all day
I'm making pies, making pies
I'm making pies, making pies
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