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