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 run Every 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.