I am often found at two ends But don’t easily come off I can come off with age and most come with it brand new I was in a song that most of us once knew

From creatures ancient, I now reside dark, and deep. I flow to wake machines from sleep. I’m slippery and smooth, I do my part, but without me, things fall apart.

I’m a thin line that you can cross or tie. If you pull me to hard, your clothing may die.

I stretch without walls, hold games, crops, and silent force. I can be crossed, studied, or felt, yet I stay when nothing stands.

My bones, Iron. My knowledge, unbound. Flesh of metal, beep boop, my sound. But one questiom bothers me deep. Do I dream of electric sheep?