Endgame (Pt. 2)
1866
Wilhelm Steinitz
1894
Emanuel Lasker
How straightforward the game
When one has trust in one's player
1921
José Capablanca
And how great the relief working for one who believes in
Loyalty, heritage, true to his kind come what may
1927
Alexander Alekhine
How straightforward the game (1935, Euwe)
When one is free from distraction
1948
Mikhail Botvinnik
When your only concern is laid out so clearly before you
64 squares, they're the reason you know you exist
1957
Vasily Smyslov
It's the weak who accept (1960, Tal)
Tawdry untruths about freedom
1963
Tigran Petrosian
Prostituting themselves, chasing a spurious starlight
Trinkets in airports, sufficient to lead them astray
1969
Boris Spassky
Does the player exist (1972)
In any human endeavor? (Bobby Fischer)
1975
Anatoly Karpov
Who's been know to exist (1985, Kasparov)
Sirens of fame and possessions, they will destroy you
Not rivals, not age, not success
1956
Budapest is rising
1956
Budapest is fighting
1956
Budapest is falling
1956
Budapest is dying
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 its 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
As you watch yourself caring about a minor sporting triumph
Sharing your win with esoterics, paranoids, hysterics
Who don't pay 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!
Nothing you have said is revelation
Take my blues as read, my consolation
Finding out at last my one true obligation
Since you seem to have shut out the world at large
Then maybe I should cut out my tiny inessential world
Inconsequential, in the kind of games you're playing
How do you do it?
I tried to be that cynical but blew it
I only changed your life, you left your home, your wife
I'm not surprised I slipped your mind
Nothing you have said is revelation
Take my blues as read, my consolation
Finding out at last my one true obligation
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
We have never heard such an ovation
Who could not be stirred?
Such dedication, 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, the 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?
And so, you're letting me go
You're the only one who's never suffered anything at all
How you've hated my success
Well, I won't crawl and
You can slink back to your pawns and to your tarts
And every poisoned word shows that you never understood
Liar!
Never
Liar!
Never
Liar!
Never
Liar!
Never
Never!
Nothing you have said is revelation
Take my blues as read, my consolation
Finding out that I'm my only obligation
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?
Checkmate!