Answer:
Give it food and it will live, give it water and it will die.
The sun bakes them, the hand breaks them, the foot treads on them, and the mouth tastes them.
Although my cow is dead, I still beat her. What a racket she makes!
My first is second in lineอพ I send shivers up your spineอพ not quite shining bright I glitter in the light.
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?