From open doors I step outside, with nothing there but air to ride. The ground below comes rushing near, a daring dance with thrill and fear.

Winning me in a match has your supporters jumping with joy, Too much of something, and I runneth over Use me as a measuring tool for your recipes Or fill me up and kiss me to wake up in the morning

With strings I send a ball in flight, or keep the whole house up at night. In sport or chaos, loud and fast, my name fits both from first to last.

From dripping water I am made, then hang like winter’s crystal blade.

I lift the heavy, but have no hands, I travel aisles, but own no lands. With a metal grin, I play my part, what am I?