I fill your ears with my symphony and though you hate it you clap for me. I take a bow just before your applause. For quenching my thirst, my life is yours. If you’re lucky. What am I?

My job sounds like I work on the bodies of cars, But I really fill holes created by Mars And make what you could call the headwear of czars. A visit to me can make you see stars

To cheer for the C’s! Or once the feet for your peas Or even a beer that goes well with creams.

You slice me dead, yet cry when you do. You can fry me and so on for food. I come in purple, red, or white, but I'll taste bad if you take a direct bite!

Guess what?