I wear a suit of gold and red, With brilliant thoughts inside my head. I snapped my fingers, saved the day, And turned the darkest threat away.

If yellow, a mean fellow If leather, lasts forever If it's hot, you'd better not If on book, it's a good look

Some are built of stone In ancient and desert lands Others are built on a lie grown Promising riches that slip through hands

you can wear me on your foot but I'm also fun to ride with the help of gravity take a seat and you will glide

How can you accuse me, Of what it is, that you do best? It makes me boil with anger, Causing bellows from my chest. My toll of weight is held, in goals and fingers nonetheless. Either way you’ll want a spot. My handle held to pour or sweat.