Answer:
When I live I cry if you don't kill me I'll die.
The sun bakes me, the hand breaks me, the foot treads on me, and the mouth tastes me. What am I?
A thousand wheels but move I do not. Call me what I am call me a lot.
Keep doing me to avoid lens dryness
I am so delicate that even mentioning me breaks me. What am I?
What is always coming but never arrives?