(B. Andersson / T. Rice / B. Ulvaeus)

The Arena. The final game in the final match. As the players take up their positions the CHOIR sing the names of previous world champions:
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 endeavor
Who's been known 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
Then 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
(The crowd cheer)

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 crowd cheer louder still)

THE RUSSIAN

And so you're letting me know -

SVETLANA

For you're the only 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?