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From WWR

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Lyrics

It’s not far, I can walk down the block to Table Talk
close my eyes, 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 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 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
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.

Patty Griffin ©2002 Almo Music Corp/ASCAP
Guitar is in standard tuning capoed on 5th fret

Listener comments about "Making Pies (103676)"

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Folk 5,666 items

Banjo 957 items

Lonely 57 items

Slow 1,411 items

Solo vocalist 11,174 items

Acoustic 9,740 items

Food 110 items

Cooking 21 items

Cover 1,047 items