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