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 the broom sounds from the 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 it's , 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 skin. And from your car you drive around; and in the dark you see its blue light turn on and on. Radio sings a lullaby. Radio sings a whoo a whoo a whoo.
Radio, became a skull, a torrid pitch, a night of rot rot and burning hiss. And when you lie, and miss the sky; and through your roof comes sign of things; things going 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 clicks and beeps it sings the tunes of crooks and cheats.
Radio, it knows your heart. It makes a song, and sang its static upon your teeth. And in your car, you felt , you felt its love. It's the best friend you could have had. And from the sky and when it snowed, the waves would fall fall fall Around your skin. And from your car you drove around and in the dark you saw its blue light on and on. Radio sings a lullaby. Radio sang a whoo a whoo a whoo.