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.