Answer:
Who spends the day at the window, goes to the table for meals. And hides at night?
Fuels backyard get-ยญtogethers
I can be written, I can be spoken, I can be exposed, I can be broken.
I saw a strange creature. Long, hard, and straight, thrusting into a round, dark opening. Preparing to discharge its load of lives. Puffing and squealing noises accompanied it, then a final screech as it slowed and stopped.
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.
All about, but cannot be seen, Can be captured, cannot be held, No throat, but can be heard. Who am I?