Answer:
I'm a word that is not even strange. What am I?
I run around the city but I never move.
I am black when you buy me, red when you use me. When I turn white, you know it's time to throw me away. What am I?
Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen. What am I?
When you take away the whole from me there is always some left.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?