C'mon, kind Sir, let's walk outside  And 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    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    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  Through 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    Let the bells ring  He is the real thing  Let the bells ring  He is the real, real thing