Answer:
In this place, people lie, people cry, and people ask why. In this place, people sleep, people weep, and people's solitude, they keep. What is it?
What makes a loud noise when changing its jacket, becomes larger but weighs less?
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.
It is destruction made out of thin air, You hear it howl and give a prayer, Through barns and houses it will tear. It is a deadly funnel, Of violent and twisting air.
I have rivers without water. Forests without trees. Mountains without rocks. Towns without houses.
This food is a tortilla filled with cheese and sometimes chicken before being heated or cooked.