It rises as if to meet the sun god halfway in the sky
Embraced by the faithful grass and worshipful trees
On the Natchez Trace where the bones of pioneers lie
Where Indian chants were once carried on the breeze.
It took so many basketfuls of sacred earth to build
Before the ruler, the Great Sun, was fully satisfied
The final upper plaza temples were a vision fulfilled
In his sedan he reached the summit where he'd reside.