To gold, To gold, In times of old. Mixture, Mixture, Immortal elixir?

In rows we stand, red and stout, to build a wall that's strong, no doubt. Silent in duty, firm in place, a sturdy guardian of the space.

I fall on beds but never trip, A woven wave you love to grip. On frosty nights I’m snug and set - I wrap you tight. What am I yet?

I make you dizzy while riding something that isn’t alive.

In a restaurant I’m worn with pride, Hiding pen stains deep inside. I’ve got more pockets than a thief, Holding notepads, cash, and grief.