Answer:
Tomorrow's yesterday. Yesterday's tomorrow. What is it?
A precious gift, yet it has no end, no beginning, and nothing in the middle.
The eight of us go forth not back to protect our king from a foe's attack. What are we?
It is a form of plastic money.
What gets broken without being hold?
I touch the Earth, I touch the sky, but if I touch you, you’ll likely die. What am I?