Answer:
The more you work, the more I'll eat.You keep me full, I'll keep you neat. What am I?
I drive men mad for love of me, easily beaten, never free. What am I?
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
I am always hungry I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.
As a state in America I am round on both sides and high in the middle.
Keep doing me to avoid lens dryness