Answer:
Black we are and much admired. Many seek us if they are tired. We tire the horse, and comfort man, and turn White when we've fulfilled your plan.
The older they are the less wrinkles they have.
With pointed fangs it sits in wait. With piercing force it doles out fate, over bloodless victims proclaiming its might. Eternally joining in a single bite.
What letter comes next: O T T F F S S ?
Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover. And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover. I'm high, and I'm low, though flat in the middle. And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.
Within, I clean all that is bad and is old. I make juice thatβs the color of gold. Should I die, a filter machine would you need assembled to replace me and beans I resemble.