Making Pies

It's not far, I can walk

Down the block to Table Talk

I close my eyes

And 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 grey

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 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

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

I'm making pies, making pies