Answer:
Iron roof, glass walls, burns and burns and never falls.
I am what remains when nothing is left.What am I?
What force and strength cannot get through. I, with a gentle touch, can do. Many in the street would stand. Were I not a friend at hand.
What is put on a table, cut, but never eaten?
What do people want the least on their hands?
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?