Radio, its in the air, its in the sky, its in the portrait of your bluebone pie. And when you cry, it hears you cry, lullabies and la la la la la la la. It's in your home. The one in Rome. it moves in waves and makes broom sounds from lovely caves. Its in your hand; a lovely band; a friends that's canned, and hears your sobs from where it can.
Radio, it knows your heart and makes a song and sings its static upon your teeth. And in your car, you feel its love. Its all a best friend could ever have. And from the sky and when it snows the waves will fall and fall around your lovely skin. And from your car you drive around; and in the dark you see its blue light turn on and on. Radio sings a bloody lullaby. Radio sing a lovely whoo a whoo a whoo.
Radio, became a skull; a torrid pitch; a night of rot and burning hiss. And when you lie, and miss the sky; and through your roof comes the hidden signal of things gone wrong. So hide in trees and find the breeze and drink your water for la la la la la la la, Cause' Radio sleeps its run by creeps it clickes and beeps it sings the tunes of crooks and cheats.
Radio, it knew your heart. It made a song, and sang its static upon your teeth. And in your car, you felts its love. It's all a best friend could have had. And from the sky and when it snowed, the waves would fall and fall
around your lovely skin. And from your car you drove around and in the dark you saw its blue light turn on and on. Radio sang a bloody lullaby. Radio sang a whoo a whoo a whoo.
