The Candidate
Al Stewart
Inside the lonely building
Sits the candidate
His speech is typed and ready
The hundred-dollar plates
Sit on deserted tables
Beneath fluorescent light
But no one comes to hear him
No cheers disturb the night
So where are all the voters?
Where the voter's wives?
They've all gone to the movies
Trying to understand their lives.
The candidate is slipping
Into some dream of old
Not noticing around him
A thousand rubber chickens going cold