Answer:
I cannot be felt seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate. Yet I have my own style of music.
I am a path between high natural masses; remove the first letter to get a path between man-made masses.
I repeat only the last word you say. The more I repeat, the softer I got. I cannot be seen but can be heard. What am I?
I have wheels and flies yet I am not an aircraft.
I'm a precious stone in a pack of cards. What am I?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?