I have black and white, but wear no clothes, I fall in lines, as everyone knows. With a single push, a chain reaction starts, Connecting numbers, playing many parts. What am I?

Leavened rolls split, I sit between the set, warm and juicy, with room to spare. Topped to your taste, onions, lettuce, tomato, and perhaps cheese, if you dare. Cooked to perfection, a medium rare, though if it’s still mooing, send it back there.

I have many masters, both highborn and low A king, a page, and others you'd know Some would shred me and grab my long neck Who would turn me into a wreck

Every time I bite, I loose a tooth; Never fear, plenty more under my roof.

I am always above you, but never in the sky. I can be decorated, but have no face. I hold up the roof, but have no hands. What am I?