One of me is built from wood, another wears a mask and hood. Though little else is quite the same, both answers share a common name.

I can have holes, but I'm no sponge I can have armor, but I'm no knight I'm where you're scheduled to be buried If you've lost me, you don't know what you're doing

I have a heartbeat made of traffic, a voice made up of countless tongues. Though built of stone, glass, and steel, I seem alive to everyone.

I sleep in fields of gold beneath the sun, A humble grass until the day is done. In heavy stone I’m ground to make your bread, Or steeped in boiling vats to warm your head.

Leave bread too long and I may grow, yet molten metal may use me so. In one form living, in one form not, yet both share a name, believe it or not.