C'mon, kind sir, let's walk outside   Breathe the autumn air   See the many that have lived and died   See the unending golden stair      See all of us that have come behind   Clutching at your hem   All the way from Arkansas   To your sweet and last amen      Well let the bells ring   He is the real thing   Let the bells ring   He is the real, real thing      Take this deafening thunder down   Take this bread and take this wine   Your passing is not what we mourn   But the world you left behind      Well, do not breathe, nor make a sound   And behold your mighty work   That towers over the uncaring ground   Of a lesser, darker world      Well let the bells ring   He is the real thing   Let the bells ring   He is the real, real thing      There are those of us not fit to tie   The laces of your shoes   Must remain behind to testify   What an elementary blues      So, let's walk outside, the hour is late   Through your crumbs and scattered shells   Where the awed and the mediocre wait   Barely fit to ring the bells      Well let the bells ring   He is the real thing   Well let the bells ring   He is the real, real thing