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Thanks Spirit
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| This thing all things
devours: Birds, beasts, trees and flowers. Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, Even beats high mountains down. Question: What am I? Runs over fields and woods all day; Under the bed at night sits not alone; With long tongue hanging out waiting for a bone. Question: What is it? I cannot be felt, seen or touched; Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate; Yet I have my own style of music. Question: What am I? See answers |
