Poppy seeds separated by flour and sugar just for me once a year
She sings happily while baking
Swaying from oven to cabinet then reaches for the phone
She says goodbye and returns to her song,
She sings as if she’s an actress and it’s 1935
Living in a black and white screen for all the world to see
It takes her back to when she was younger
Like a spirit resurrected from the dead
the musical notes drift through the air
She waits for Dean Martin or Cary Grant to sweep her away
So much of me is her that she will never be gone
Not in 50 years, she’ll always be in those songs
The songs that one day I’ll sing while constructing the perfect poppy seed cake
She sings happily while baking
Swaying from oven to cabinet then reaches for the phone
She says goodbye and returns to her song,
She sings as if she’s an actress and it’s 1935
Living in a black and white screen for all the world to see
It takes her back to when she was younger
Like a spirit resurrected from the dead
the musical notes drift through the air
She waits for Dean Martin or Cary Grant to sweep her away
So much of me is her that she will never be gone
Not in 50 years, she’ll always be in those songs
The songs that one day I’ll sing while constructing the perfect poppy seed cake
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