Every morning the sun
rises from the east and sets in the west.

Every night the sky
is filled with a billion tiny lights.

Even the moonlight
shines atop the gleaming lakes.

The lakes are surrounded
by land (of course), but with tall hills.
The hills have eyes I like to say.

They are full of life.
They call this place God’s Country.

I call it home.
It’s where I grew,
And its where I’ll die of old age.