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The Measure

Every inch of anguish

Laid out side by side

Cannot make a full yard

In the measure of our lives.Every coin of sorrow

Weighed upon the beams

Rises when the far side

Is flatted by our dreams.Well, the night is rich

As we stop to look around.

You shall believe it is

As we pause to hear the sound.All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

Every dying ember

Every setting sun

Cannot cast a shadow

On the race we have runEvery paper dollar

Counted over twice

Cannot buy our gladness

Cannot pay our price.Well, the night is rich

As we stop to look around.

You shall believe it is

As we pause to hear the sound.All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.Well, the night is rich

As we stop to look around.

You shall believe it is

As we pause to hear the sound.All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

All we've lost

Is nothing to what we've found.

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