Answer:
Looks like water, but it's heat. Sits on sand, lays on concrete. A play on the eyes, but it's all lies.
My first is an insect; my second is a border; my whole puts the face in a tuneful disorder.
A shimmering field that reaches far. Yet it has no tracks, And is crossed without paths.
Sharp and long, flag of the world. What is it?
Without this, eating food and Steven Spielberg's career would be very different.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?