I'm an instrument through which sounds are made, and yet, not something that can be played. What am I?

My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say. What am I?

Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?

You heard me before, and then again. Afterward, I die, until you call me again. What am I?

I follow you all the time and copy your every move, but you can't touch me or catch me. What am I ?

I can be cracked, I can be made. I can be told, I can be played. What am I?

I have no life, but I can die. What am I?

I have four wings, but cannot fly, I never laugh and never cry; On the same spot I'm always found, toiling away with little sound. What am I?

You go at red, but stop at green. What am I?

Two in a corner, 1 in a room, 0 in a house, but 1 in a shelter. What am I?

I'm lighter than what I am made of, and more of me is hidden than is seen. What am I?

You cut me, slice me, dice me, and all the while, you cry. What am I ?

I have a tail and a head, but no body. What am I?

I have eyes but I can't see. I live in the dark until you need me. What am I?

I'm tall when I'm young, and I'm short when I'm old, what am I?