I am the tyrant of the lizards, but I have no crown to own. I am part of the most famous but have no autographs to sign.

I left no breath, no sound, no cry, Yet linger still where eons lie. Not born of ink, yet shaped in lore, pressed deep beneath the rocky floor. No mind recalls the form I cast, Yet stone remembers what could not last.

What runs, but never walks. Murmurs, but never talks. Has a bed, but never sleeps. And has a mouth, but never eats?

A thing that eats without a mouth. If it eats, it lives. If it drinks, it dies. What is it?

I make air, but I do not make the skies. People often smell me.