In the shithouse, a shotgun
Praying hands hold me down
Only the hunter was hunted
In this tin can town, tin can town
No stars in the black night
Looks like the sky fell down
No sun in the daylight
Looks like it`s chained to the ground
Chained to the ground
The warden said
The exit is sold
If you want a way out
Silver and gold
Broken back to the ceiling
Broken nose to the floor
I scream at the silence, it`s crawling
It crawls under the door
There`s a rope around my neck
And there`s a trigger in your gun
Jesus say something
I am someone, I am someone
I am someone
Captain and kings
In the ships hold
They came to collect
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Seen the coming and going
Seen them captains and kings
See them navy blue uniforms
See them bright and shiny things
Bright and shiny things, yeah
The temperature is rising
The fever white hot
Mister, I ain`t got nothing
But it`s more than you got
Chains no longer bind me
Not the shackles at my feet
Outside are the prisoners
Inside the free
Set them free
Set them free
A prize fighter in a corner is told
Hit where it hurts
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Yep, silver and gold.
This song was written in a hotel room in New York City.
`Round about the time a friend or ours, little Steven,
was putting together a record of artists against apartheid.
This is a song written about a man in a shanty town outside of Johannesburg.
A man who`s sick of looking down the barrel of white South Africa.
A man who is at the point where he is ready to take up arms
against his oppressor.
A man who has lost faith in the peacemakers of the west while
they argue and while they fail to support a man like bishop Tutu
and his request for economic sanctions against South Africa.
Am I buggin` you?
I don`t mean to bug ya.
Ok Edge, play the blues.
