Silver and Gold

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 the 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

Yep, silver and gold. This song was written in a hotel room in New York city 'round the time a friend of 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 and tired 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.