Answer:
When we stand up it lies flat. When we lie back it stands up.
What is born long, dies short, and spends its life leaving a trail?
Taking this from a baby is said to be quite easy.
I am something that floats. But after a period of time I fall.
A white field, and when it is plowed, its soil is black.
Of no use to one, Bliss to two. Men lie for it. The baby’s right,
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Logic
What am I?