Answer:
When it is alive we sing, when it is dead we clap our hands. What is it?
I always run but never walk, I sometimes sing but cannot talk, No head on which a hat to place, You always look me in the face.
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.
who do you think you know but sometimes you don't
I have an eye but cannot see, You'll head inside when you see me.
The sun bakes them, The hand breaks them, The foot treads on them, And the mouth tastes them. What are they?