Gotta stop that man,
I gotta stop that man cold . . .
Or he'll stop me.
Big deal, big rocket,
Thinks he has the world
In his pocket.
Gotta stop, gotta stop,
Gotta stop that man.
Finch: Now there you are;
Yes, there's that face,
That face that somehow I trust.
It may embarrass you to hear me say it,
But say it I must, say it I must:
You have the cool, clear
Eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth;
Yet there's that upturned chin
And that grin of impetuous youth.
Oh, I believe in you.
I believe in you.
I hear the sound of good, solid judgment
Whenever you talk;
Yet there's the bold, brave spring of the tiger
That quickens your walk.
Oh, I believe in you.
I believe in you.
And when my faith in my fellow man
All but falls apart,
I've but to feel your hand grasping mine
And I take heart; I take heart
To see the cool, clear
Eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth;
Yet, with the slam-bang tang
Reminiscent of gin and vermouth.
Oh, I believe in you.
I believe in you.
Executives: Gotta stop that man,
Gotta stop that man . . .
Or he'll stop me.
Big wheel, big beaver,
Boiling hot
With front office fever.
Gotta stop, gotta stop,
Gotta stop that man.
Finch: Oh, I believe in you.
Executives: Don't let him be such a hero!
Finch: I believe in you.
You! You! Mwah!