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