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Making Pies, by Patti Griffin
It's not far, I can walk
Down the block to Table Talk
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 gray
Did I show you this picture of my nephew
Taken at his big birthday suprise
At my sister's house last Sunday?
This is Monday and I'm making pies
I'm making pies
Thursday night go and type
At the church with 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
And they flew off to the country
As the bombs rained on the world
5 AM, here I am
Walkin' the block to Table Talk
You could cry or die, or just make pies all day
I'm making pies
I'm making pies
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