Executives: 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!