Linwood

There is a road, Going through the fields, Filled with cows, All over the hills. Through the outskirts of town, This little sanctuary, Holds the most beautiful sunsets, To be found. There is a road, Winding through counties, Beside the interstate, But still holds its solemn country. Deer roaming about, In and out of the woods, Colours fill the sky, Clouds begin to flood. This is the place I go to, When I'm feeling sad. I wish the world could see, But it is mine to be had. There is a road, Going through fields, Filled with cows, All over the hills.