Answer:
Take off my skin I won't cry but you will. What am I?
I am clean when Iβm black dirty when Iβm white.
I am what no man ever yet did see, which never was, but always is to be. What am I?
I move without wings Between silken string I leave as you find My substance behind.
Santa shakes his belly like a bowl full of me
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.