Oh Brentwood, where the sun glows
With birds chirping where the warm winds blow.
The sound of Latin music fills your ears,
Lyrics that’ll stick with you for years.
Bam! There’s my high school who bleeds green,
The enormous amount of students making it hard to be seen.
Sounds of chitter chatter and hot slop on my platter,
Make me miss my bed and makes me sadder.
With every season, my town changes
From freezing cold to burning hot, the weather rearranges.
As much as I complain, there’s nothing I would change,
Of my sweet town Brentwood, where the possibilities range.
