In the sh_t 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.