Answer:
According to the music industry, you can count on a midnight train and the devil to turn up here.
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
A shimmering field that reaches far. Yet it has no tracks, And is crossed without paths.
Twigs and spheres and poles and plates. Join and bind to reason make.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?
Difficult
Difficult
Animal
Easy
Food
Funny
Kids
Logic
What am I?