Answer:
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.
Face with a tree, skin like the sea. A great beast I am. Yet vermin frightens me.
What is weightless but takes two people to hold it?
They're up near the sky, on something very tall. Sometimes they die, only then do they fall.
My sides are firmly laced about, Yet nothing is withinΝΎ You'll think my head is strange indeed, Being nothing else but skin.
If I say "everything I tell you is a lie", am I telling you the truth or a lie?