In the shit house 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 the kings

See them navy blue uniforms

See them bright and shiny things

Bright shiny things





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





[spoken part follows:]





Yep, silver and gold...





This song was written in a hotel room in New York city 'round about the time a friend of ours, little Steven, was puting 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...





Okay Edge, play the blues.