Making Pies

It's not far I can walk
Down the block to table talk
Close my eyes, make the pies all day
Plastic a 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 the picutre of my nephew
Taken at his big birthday surprise
At my sisters house last Sunday
Now it's Monday and I'm making pies
I'm making pies, making pies, pies

Thursday nights I go to type
Down at 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
And he's looking at me 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, making pies, making pies