Seven a.m. is when the station plays its sounds Listening to the speaker while the patterns sew into place Unmistakably, he'll return alive His colors ought to show again Black and white and black and white And black and white and black and white No – blue and green and yellow and red; the radio only plays in Black and white and black and white And black and white and black and white No – blue and green and yellow and red; the radio only plays in Black and white and black and white And black and white and black and white No – blue and green and yellow and red; the radio only plays in Black and white and black and white And black and white and black and white No – blue and green and yellow and red; the radio only plays in

These aren't the colors I should see FM comes in different colors, I believe In the sewing machine, I've lost myself Memories inside my heart are there to grieve Color-coded by the love he gave to me Ah, his voice, it speaks to me through the radio Pressing spotted fabric on an ironing board Losing bobbins under tables, is it so? Every day, it feels like seams are more than torn