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-aca