The Yellow Tell All

They chopped me up into little pieces and put me inside of a piano,
they said it was best if I stayed put,
and that inside that pine box would be the best of all places,
even better than the coffin they first had in mind,

less obvious,
I suppose,

but I got to thinking how no one would miss me,
maybe we could cash in on my demise,

They tell stories about people like me,
people that disappear without their last rights,
for no good reason,

for story,
for sport,

but I could stay put,
looking out on all of them,
listening in like a bug,

all the while,
while we play them,
kind of like a piano,
but more like a fiddle