I spin without walking, sing without a mouth. I keep what you said, and also what you played. I can be broken, beaten, or set straight, stored on shelves or chased in a race.

I’m a tiny cut, a little groove, On belts, trees, or maybe your shoe. I help things fit or show your score What am I that’s never a bore?

I'm wild in the kings court but I'm never in your hand. There's always two of me on deck.

I’m something you can copy perfectly, yet the original never disappears. I get smaller when you compress me, but smarter when you train me. I live in layers, travel in packets, and die when corrupted. People argue whether I should be free.

Pronounced as one letter, And written with three, Two letters there are, And two only in me. I’m double, I’m single, I’m black, blue, and gray, I’m read from both ends, And the same either way. What am I?