Believe in whales, pull in winter
And save the bench for springtime loves
Beside your eyes and Bette Davis'
There was a war before the cold
Here comes the touch of november
To chill my bones and comb the swans
Red submarine have scared them all now
The ghost has called the whales are gone
It's just another withering fire
Let it all out and find a way back home
Another one is running out of time
Let it all out and find you're way back home
You need a little time to wake up
You were dreaming
He's not her
We're not gone