I have a head but rarely run. Or I am a bed for antiquity. I have a veil to hide your shame, And cleanse all your iniquity.

What do you lick and smack before you use it, what travels all over the world, but always stays in a corner. What can glide among a summers breeze

I’m both bits of you, and bits of others. I’m under your bed, but not your covers. I’m not that creepy, with my oft cute name. Keep your corners clean, to keep me away.

You'll find me in the darkest caves, trickling forth in cleansing waves. Sometimes I grow too much, too quick, and block the path with amber ick. Spelunkers come, lanky and pale, they try to best me and often fail.

I make single letters in to words, but I am not made of words without you. You might see me in front of you when making a guess after the clue.