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