Feed Me Lyrics

Feed Me lyrics

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?