Answer:
What is it that after you take away the whole, some still remains?
It flows out of the soil, It burns you if it boils, And holds us in its coils, More valuable than gold, As black as it is old.
What goes through a door but never goes in and never comes out?
The more you have of me, the less you see. Who am I?
When someone uses this acronym, you know you've got to pick up the pace
My days are numbered. What am I?