Answer:
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
Although I'm not an insect, some people found me very difficult to exterminate. They called me something like 'insane priest.' The first half of my name means the same as 'scrape,' & my last three letters are a metal. Who am I?
Feed me and I live, give me drink and I die.
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own.
With pointed fangs it sits in wait. With piercing force it doles out fate, over bloodless victims proclaiming its might. Eternally joining in a single bite.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.