I stand where boundaries rise and fall, I keep things in and out for all, I’m silent, still, yet strong and tall.

A thin highway that keeps no guest, Where wandering streams briefly flow. Though empty, I disturb their rest And guide them upward as they go. What am I?

Gee, it’s a type of butter. Could you clarify that for me?

The first four can be a nap The last four can be a space Together, a place for crap Tasteless, sure, but there's the place

It's been a long day Now I must rest Have a good night Time to get dressed