Green on the outside, gold at the core, Mash me or slice me; either way, you’ll want more. Smooth as butter, clad in armor so thick, But split me in two and you'll find a big pit.

I live in a place where no fire can glow, yet I cook for the masses with a spatula’s show. My pants are square, my pineapple home is beyond compare, from jellyfish fields to boating-school woes - Who am I, the sponge every kid already knows?

Bulb bursting light begins to crank up. A sea of slim bodies hold colorful cups. Crowds come not for tunes nor for legal nugs, but to hang with and pick up these lowlander buds.

I can be a most serious transgression, or the number one rule. In church, I'm part of a college, but not a school. I never get lost, feathers striking as a jewel. To some I visit as the departed, even when the weather begins to cool.

I can run, but never walk. I have a mouth, but never talk. I have a bed, but never sleep. What am I?