Answer:
The root tops the trunk on this backward thing, that grows in the winter and dies in the spring.
My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale. But I'm always ready to tell a tale.
I am nothing really at all, Yet I am easily foundΝΎ Ignore me at your own peril, and you might end up crowned!
My second is performed by my first, and it is thought a thief by the marks of my whole might be caught.
The stack just might be sent all over. Full of what's new, yet it's nearly obsolete.
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?