Answer:
Walk on the living, they donโt even mumble, Walk on the dead, they mutter and grumble. What are they?
I hide but my head is outside.
Lighter than what I am made of, More of me is hidden Than is seen.
What can't you see, hear or feel, until its too late. What shadows love, and shopkeepers hate?
I never was but always will be. No one ever saw me but everyone knows I exist. I give people the motivation to better themselves every day. What am I?
If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?