A song exists about this object, the song is from a childrens show, it belongs on a clothing, but just for your feet, this word is not that well known, but always in our lives.

With pointy fangs and a nasty bite, my victims lie bloodless in plain sight.

I might be a face of a woman or man, A vessel for drinks that isn't a can, Making a scene for a crowd, or a lens, Or how a trip down a dark alleyway ends.

I am known for the boot, but I do not kick. You might slam me.

I share a name with one who has a strong hold. On treasures, coin, or papers old. When you’re at peace, I’m what you feel. Many think I’m an illusion, that Im not even real. What am I?