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.
Man walks over, and man swims under. In times of war, it can be burned asunder. What is it?
It's in your hand though you can not feel it. Only you and time can reveal it.
What is it that makes tears without sorrow and takes its journey to heaven?
I can ruin your day, or darken your life. And while I'm expected, I'm never alright. I'm bad for business, and worse for your hair. Wherever I am, there's something not there.
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.