| This version recorded live on 8th November 1987
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 says: 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 that's crawling
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
Captains and kings in the ship's hold
They came to collect silver and
gold
I see the coming and the going
See them captains and kings
See their
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've got
These 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 for silver and
gold
Silver and gold
Spoken: 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 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.
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