Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
I have legs but walk not, a strong back but work not. Two good arms but reach not. A seat but sit and tarry not.
Give it food and it will live, give it water and it will die.
What has a bottom right at the top?
According to the music industry, you can count on a midnight train and the devil to turn up here.