As it stands, I am paint made by water, melting beneath the first heat of light. Add a Y and dip a fry, a simple, tasty fast-food delight. Cold by nature, altered by your touch, this frozen name belongs to a famous snowman.

I have no legs, but I am always running. I have no lungs, but I can’t stop breathing. I have a bed, but I never sleep. I have a mouth, but I never speak Though I can roar when I’m angry, And I’m always at my best when I’m going downhill.

A cozy dwelling, Your humble abode, I stay where I'm built, While you hit the road.

I'm the end of a morning brew, yet a start for something new. I leave a dark stain, a bitter perfume. What am I, in my discarded tomb?

I fill the trough for beasts that graze, or flood your screen throughout the day. I keep things full in different ways, for hungry mouths or eyes that stay.