Benny Andersson, Tim Rice, and Bjorn Ulvaeus
CHOIR: Morphy, Anderson, Steinitz, Lasker, Capablanca, Alekhine, Euwe, Botvinnik, Smyslov, Tal, Petrosian, Spassky, Fischer, Karpov MOLOKOV: How straightforward the game When one has trust in one's player And how great the relief Working for one who believes in Loyalty, heritage, true to his kind come what may THE AMERICAN: Though it gives me no joy Adding to your satisfaction You can safely assume Your late unlamented employee Knows if he wins then the only thing won is the chess MOLOKOV: It's the weak who accept Tawdry untruths about freedom Prostituting themselves Chasing a spurious starlight Trinkets in airports sufficient to lead them astray FLORENCE: Does the player exist In any human endeavour Who's been know to resist Sirens of fame and possessions? They will destroy you, not rivals, not age, not success THE RUSSIAN: They all think they see a man Who doesn't know Which move to make Which way to go Whose private life Caused his decline Wrecked his grand design Some are vicious, some are fools And others blind To see in me One of their kind Anyone can be A husband, lover Sooner them than me When they discover Their domestic bliss is Shelter for their failing Nothing could be worse Than self-denial Having to rehearse The endless trial Of a partner's rather sad Demands prevailing SVETLANA: As you watch yourself caring About a minor sporting triumph, sharing Your win with esoterics, Paranoids, hysterics Who don't pay any attention to What goes on around them They leave the ones they love the way they found them A normal person must Dismiss you with disgust And weep for those who trusted you THE RUSSIAN: Nothing you have said Is revelation Take my blues as read My consolation -- Finding out at last my one true obligation SVETLANA & CROWD: Listen to them shout! They saw you do it In their minds no doubt That you've been through it Suffered for your art but In the end a winner Who could not be stirred? Such dedication We have never heard Such an ovation Skill and guts a model For the young beginner They're completely enchanted But they don't take your qualities for granted It isn't very often That the critics soften Nonetheless you've won their hearts How can we begin to Appreciate the work that you've put into Your calling through the years The blood, the sweat and tears, the Late late nights, the early starts There they go again! Your deeds inflame them Drive them wild, but then Who wants to tame them? If they want a part of you Who'd really blame them? THE RUSSIAN: And so you're letting me know -- SVETLANA: For you're the only one who's never suffered anything at all THE RUSSIAN: How you've hated my success -- SVETLANA: Well I won't crawl -- And you can slink back to your pawns and to your tarts THE RUSSIAN: And every poisoned word shows that you never understood Never! SVETLANA: Liar! BOTH: Nothing you have said Is revelation Take my blues as read My consolation -- SVETLANA: Finding out that I'm my only obligation THE RUSSIAN: Is there no-one in my life Who does not claim The right to steal My work, my name My success, my fame And my freedom?
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