Answer:
I bind it and it walks. I loose it and it stops.
It happens when something has been cut with H2O.
Alive without breath, As cold as death, Clad in mail never clinking, Never thirsty, ever drinking
You can spin, wheel and twist. But this thing can turn without moving.
Some live in me, some live on. And some shave me to stride upon. I rarely leave my native land. Until my death I always stand. High and low I may be found. Both above and below ground.
I can only be played on a windy day