The man is utterly mad! Believe me, Anatoly,
You're playing a lunatic
That's the problem.
He's a brilliant lunatic,
and you can't tell which way he'll jump.
Like his game, he's impossible to analyze.
You can't predict him, dissect him,
Which of course means he's not a lunatic at all
What we've just seen's a pathetic display
From a man who's beginning to crack
He knows he isn't the player he was
And he won't get it back.
Why do you people always want to believe
My friend, please relax,
We're all your side
You know how you need us
I don't need my army of 'so-called' advisors
And helpers to tell me the man
who's revitalised Chess single-handed
Is more or less out of his brain
When it's very clear
Listen, we don't underestimate Trumper
We won't get caught in that trap
After all, winning or losing reflects on us all
Oh, don't give me that crap!
I win, no-one else does
And I take the rap if I lose
It's not quite that simple
The whole world's tuned in
We're all on display
We're not merely sportsmen
Oh please don't start spouting
that old party line
Just get out, and get me my chess-playing second
In 36 hours we begin
That is if you want to win
One thing is not sufficient.
We have to know, we have to make sure
All men have a weakness
His is that woman.
Take her, and you win the game.
So you think I can't win otherwise?
I'm not saying that, I'm just making certain
And she is attractive.
And then there's her intriguing family history,
Hungary, 1956 and all that
I'm a chess player, Mr. Molokov.
You go and play these other games.