She is rich in everything now:
In makeup that fits, in voices that carry, In the quiet distance of lives lived apart.
But in this golden room of plenty,
I'd trade it all for the girl who knew my heart.
The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and old memories,
A feast of things we've become, laid out on a table of things we've lost.
She looks happy-a radiant, finished masterpiece-But I am still staring at the empty canvas where we used to begin
Knowing l am surrounded by the "abundance" of the life she's made,
While standing in the deep, cold shadow of the price we paid.
We have found the world, but we lost the map.
What used to be there is all gone now
"all gone now”