Silver and Gold live

 

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

Isaiah 55:1

"Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price."

Chains no longer bind me

Not the shackles at my feet

Outside are the prisoners

Inside the free

Set them free

Set them free

Matthew 16:18

And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

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.

Instrumental