Answer:
It is a sound of empty, speak and it'll talk back plenty. But all the more you yack, you'll get the same words back.
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
It is an arctic double breasted formal wear.
My first is in fish but no in snail. My second is in rabbit but no in tail. My third is in up but not in down. My fourth is in tiara but not in crown. My fifth is in tree you plainly see. My whole a food for you and me.
A girl was ten on her last birthday, and will be twelve on her next birthday. How is this possible?
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.