|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 voters' 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.