In a lamp, my home is tight, granting dreams in the dead of night. With a twist of fate, I'm set free, a whispered wish and I can be.

In the land of stripes, I roam with grace, a horse-like creature in a monochrome race. My attire is nature's barcode, a walking piano with no sound to unfold.

A place to cut and slash without any form of man hands

I am a portmanteau Somewhat bizzarely Of order's counterpart And bristle on barley

You can lean on me, Stand to write with a snap! I hold sheets together. Old rib cap.