Answer:
What kind of table can you eat?
I run around the streets all day. Under the bed or by the door I sit at night never alone. my tongue hangs out waiting to be fed during the day.
I am a table you can eat. What am I?
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies I scream in celebration Yet moments later my outburst through I am naught but imagination.
I am a rock group that has 4 members, all of whom are dead, one of which was assassinated. What am I?
What do you purposefully put lots of in and on your body, but run away from when you encounter it outside?