Pagoda

Up the hill from Portugal
 Not the country, the street
 Propped amongst these pathways, a lone magnolia leans
 Arms wide open, littering the ground
 The petals, once blossoms, assemble in a mound
 ♪
 So long in your abandon
 So long your roots must reach
 The plea for restoration, commencing at your feet
 Well, it wasn't wasted motion, you are strikingly alive
 There is no misplacement, transcend the times
 Light upon a beacon, you were always reaching
 The nighttime, the lifetimes, they waltzed on by
 To the pulse of pagoda, the beat of pagoda
 The feeling, I know ya, and I feel, I feel alright
 The places you go back to, the swelling of a creek
 You could dive right into, what never seemed that deep (whoa)
 Well, it wasn't wasted motion (whoa), it wasn't wasted time (whoa)
 And just like this pagoda (whoa), I see you all the time
 A lone magnolia, like the one in your backyard
 Light upon a beacon, you were always reaching
 The nighttime, the lifetimes, they waltzed on by
 To the pulse of pagoda, the beat of pagoda
 The feeling, I know ya, and I feel (I feel), I feel (I)
 I (I-I-I), feel alright