Answer:
I am a food made from the pressed curds of milk. I come in American, swiss, sharp and many other flavors. What am I?
A fruit on a tree. A tree on a fruit.
Men seize it from its home, tear apart its flesh, drink the sweet blood, then cast its skin aside.
A wonderful elixir, It is your fluid fixer. Gulp it down and turn like a concrete mixer. Dark as night and sweet as sin, It's like liquid heroin.
The leaves are on the fruit, the fruit is on the leaves. What is it?
If a rooster lays an egg on the exact peak of a barn, which side does it fall?