I count without fingers, I move without feet. I never sleep, But I tick and repeat.

Slick and slippery, I glide with ease, turning rusty joints into a dance of ease. Found in kitchens and machines, I'm the unseen secret to a smooth routine.

You pick me when you start a fight, with an opponent who is bad to me. A bag of me is hauntingly thin. I’m dry as dry could be.

I pass the time as I sit untouched, My figure lithe and fine. A bit longer please, you ask of me So I flip and reset the time

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.