I used to walk, but now I'm cured, So you won't have to chase me. I come from someplace smoky, And you just can't wait to taste me!

I am related to cookies, but I am not special enough. People often put me in cakes and desserts with me.

I'm a noble gas, yet I shine so bright, In signs and lamps, my glow's a delight. In the periodic table, my spot's just right, A festive hue, in lights, I show.

When you make me, I also make you into me. But you and I must both work to keep me, and work to stay me.

Mix me up and let me dry, or pour me up to scrape the sky, or scrape your knee on me and cry.