The origin of sabotage My soul is from the trees If the path's too rocky Then the Dutch might lend you these And Sherlock Holmes would find my mark A most intriguing clue Could it be more obvious? I am a...

Upon the hoof I bear the strain, of pounding earth through sun and rain. Above a door, I’m placed with care, a sign that luck is welcome there.

Round and round we go, A painted horse, a fleeting dream, Never truly moves.

I slow things down, a thick embrace, often discussed in a hazy space. What am I?

Fill me up and turn me on You'll know when things are getting hot Because I'll start to sing my song Then you can drain what I have got