Answer:
I am the black child of a white father a wingless bird flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me even though there is no cause for grief and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
I've got a beautiful beautiful hall all walled in red velvet with all white armchairs made of bone and in the middle a woman dances.
I run smoother than any rhyme, I love to fall but cannot climb. What am I?
I live off of a busy street. If you want, you can stay for an hour or two. But if you don't pay rent, I'll tell on you. What am I?
You use me between your head and your toes the more I work the thinner I grow.
No matter how little or how much you use me, you change me every month.