Answer:
What type of paper can you neither read nor write on?
What runs around all day. Then lies under the bed. With its tongue hanging out?
One by one we fall from heaven down into the depths of past, And our world is ever upturned so that yet some time we’ll last.
I have rivers without water. Forests without trees. Mountains without rocks. Towns without houses.
Inside a burning house, this thing is best to make. And best to make it quickly, before the fire's too much to take.
Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it. But almost nobody takes it.