What kind of nut has no shell? There is a minimum character requirement

I speak in notes but have no tongue, My songs are played, not ever sung. Through wood or brass or tightened thread, I give each note its voice instead.

When I’m false, I’m a cruel and bitter trickery. When I’m blind, I’m youthful and perhaps naive. But everybody needs a bit of me in their lives. Something to supplement dreams, or to be a beacon in a sea of despair.

In the heart of bustling life, a geometric stage for public strife. Cobblestones echo with footsteps' beat, where city souls and village meet.

I’m always right, you know it’s true, as close as one comes to being a deity. No arguments lost, no words misspoken, just take my word, and all will be okay.