I sit on your head but I’m not your hair, I travel with you almost everywhere. I block the sun and brave the cold, Stylish, silly, or classy and old. What am I?

I might me made of rubber, I might be made of goo, I might be made of skin and bones and organs, just like you. Close it up, lock it tight, make sure none can get in. We’ll be back soon, I can not miss, Kiss from a Rose again!

Perched on the bridge of wisdom’s gate, with crystal windows to see our fate. Two arms embrace, yet never hold, through them, a clearer world unfolds.

You can wear me on your head and rarely to bed, you can find me at the top of a fizzy soda pop, and in modern parlance, if you deceive, the crowd will perceive and exclaim me.

Unicycle is sort of like it, Especially without the ‘cy’. Single tone combined with cull, Free parking on the eye.