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•
Veils, The
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[B
u y "
The Runaway Found
" CD]
Berenice My hands and 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 taht we all fall apart.
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