Answer:
The sun bakes them, the hand breaks them, the foot treads on them, and the mouth tastes them.
The ones who see it may go blind, Contracting the fool's madness. You have to dig to find it, Crush big stones or mine it. Wash dirt clumps in a pan and wait for it to settle, A shiny, precious metal.
What can run but canβt walk?
What building has the most stories?
What begins and has no end? What is the ending of all that begins?
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.