Its bells don't ring; they shine red, green, and yellow Tiny black seeds that season your meal, Or thin, red, or green when you need some heat

You thought it was songs, But the app said no? 'Radio Art' ? It's what helps the heat flow...

They used to think I'm underground, In company of all the dead. Yet now all know I can be found Lightyears away above your head. And if you want me in your house? Just go put on some Mickey Mouse!

I’m something you ask for before you enter, A polite little something so no one’s offended. You wait for a yes before carrying on.. But I’m orange, I’m sweet, and I grow on a farm. What am I?

In summer's sway, with a rind so thick, inside lies the sun's juicy trick. Green or yellow, sweet and round, a picnic's joy can be found.