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