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