The Leavers Dance — The Veils

Berenice My hands my feet are worn As much as yours are And though my head my hands my heart are forming They still feel worlds apart

Berenice Beneath it all you're golden And that's all I'm feeding on And though my head my hands are growing colder We move in circles now

Berenice there's no release at all That's not worth dying for And it's not for our desires but our design that we aal fall apart.