Answer:
I have a name written on me, but it isnβt my name. Men plant me, but I never grow. They look at me and see their future, rotting in my bloom.
I let water fall on you while everyone else stays dry.
Soft, hairy, from door to door. I am the pet that always stays on the floor. What am I?
I am tomorrow's yesterday and yesterday's tomorrow. What am I?
Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. Whoever knows it, wants it not. What am I?
The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?