Letras: Van Morrison. The Philosopher's Stone. Street Theory.

Come on out, child
We gonna ring doorbells and run
Come on out, child, child
We gonna ring doorbells and run

We gonna shake up the neighborhood
Lord, we're bound to have some fun

We can take a plane to Paris
Lord, we can fly to Rome
We can take a plane to Paris
Lord, we can fly to Rome
I get a lump in my throat
Every time I go back home

I'm gonna go to church on Sunday
Just like my mama did
I'm gonna go to church on Sunday
Just like my mama did

We gonna put everything up front
'Cause there's nothing that we wanna keep in
We gonna put everything up front
'Cause there's nothing that we wanna keep in

I'm gonna go to church on Sunday
Just like my mama did
I'm gonna go to church on Sunday
Just like my mama did

We gonna put everything up front
'Cause there's nothing that we wanna keep in
We gonna put everything up front
'Cause there's nothing that we wanna keep in

Come on out, child
We gonna ring doorbells and run
Come on out, child, child
We gonna ring doorbells and run

We gonna shake up the neighborhood
Lord, we're bound to have some fun
We gonna shake up the neighborhood
Lord, we're bound to have some fun

Come on out, child, come on out, child, child
Come on out, come on out, come on out, child
Come on out, child, come on out, child, child
Come on out, child, child, come on out, child