Sheri Lynnn

There was a girl named Sheri Lynn
Who rode her bike to Oregon.
She rode up hills in rain and ice
And never saw the same thing twice.

Some hills were golden, some were brown,
And some were made of junk from town,
For Sheri's eyes were so precise
She never saw the same thing twice.

When rain or sleet fell from the sky
She never stopped to question why,
But always took her own advice
To never see the same thing twice.

Along the road, her body tight,
She peddled steady day and night
And always knew this would suffice.
She never saw the same thing twice.

And with her eyes fixed on the road
Her fingers tight, her shoulders bowed,
She never looked from side to side,
And that's the way she lived and died.