Answer:
I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate, yet I have my own style of music. What am I?
What word sounds the same even after you take away four of its five letters?
Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it, can't see it. What is it?
Some try to hide some try to cheat. But time will show we always will meet. Try as you might to guess my name. I promise you'll know when you I do claim.
What is it that makes tears without sorrow. And takes its journey to heaven?
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.