I'm gonna tell you a story
About how it was
When I'm asleep
And allowed to dream
I see him there
Sitting in that chair
And when I'm awake
And I'm walking through the day
I see him, see him there
Sitting in that chair
In a house of books
Blowing smoke from a pipe
But the picture blurs
And that clock is rewound
The clock needs to be wound
It still needs to be wound
The clock needs to be wound
It still needs to be wound
That's how he lived after he died
That's how he lived after he died
That's how he lived after he died
How he lived after he died
He died, he died, he died, he died
He died, he died, he died
He died
