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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 fall 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 a gun Jesus say something I am someone, I am someone I am someone Captains and kings in the ships hold They came to collect Silver and gold Silver and gold See 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, 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 Yeah, silver and gold This song was written in a hotel room in New York City Right about the time a friend of ours, Little Steven Was putting together a record of artists against apartheid It's a song written about a man in a shantytown 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 peace makers 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 bugging you Don't mean to bug ya Ok Edge, play the blues