Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
What do you throw out to use and take in when you're done?
Each of these ends in a kettle full of precious metal and the double variety is quite awesome
I always run but never walk, I sometimes sing but cannot talk, No head on which a hat to place, You always look me in the face.
Turns us on our backs, and open up our stomachs. You will be the wisest of men though at start a lummox.
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?