In the shit house a shotgun In the shit house a shotgun Na espelunca uma espingarda Praying hands hold me down Praying hands hold me down Pedindo que mãos a segurem Only the hunter was hunted Only the hunter was hunted Só o caçador foi caçado In this tin can town In this tin can town Nessa cidade de lata-de-conserva Tin can town Tin can town Cidade de lata-de-conserva No stars in the black night No stars in the black night Sem estrelas na noite escura Looks like the sky fell down Looks like the sky fell down Parece que o céu caiu No sun in the daylight No sun in the daylight Sem sol durante o dia Looks like it's chained to the ground Looks like it's chained to the ground Perece que está acorrentado ao chão Chained to the ground Chained to the ground Acorrentado ao chão The warden said The warden said O guarda diz The exit is sold The exit is sold A saída foi vendida If you want a way out If you want a way out Se vc quer sair Silver and gold Silver and gold Prata e ouro Broken back to the ceiling Broken back to the ceiling Costas quebradas no telhado Broken nose to the floor Broken nose to the floor Nariz quebrado ao chão I scream at the silence, it's crawling I scream at the silence, it's crawling Eu gritei no silêncio, ele está rastejando It crawls under the door It crawls under the door Rasteja abaixo da porta There's a rope around my neck There's a rope around my neck Há uma corda ao redor do meu pescoço And there's a trigger in your gun And there's a trigger in your gun E há um gatilho em sua arma Jesus say something Jesus say something Jesus, diga alguma coisa! I am someone, I am someone I am someone, I am someone Eu sou alguém, Eu sou alguém I am someone I am someone Eu sou alguém Captain and kings Captain and kings Capitães e Reis In the ships hold In the ships hold No porão dos navios They came to collect They came to collect Eles vem cobrar Silver and gold Silver and gold Prata e ouro Silver and gold Silver and gold Prata e ouro. Seen the coming and going Seen the coming and going Eu vejo a ida e a volta Seen them captains and the kings Seen them captains and the kings Vi capitães e reis See them navy blue uniforms See them navy blue uniforms Os vi em seus uniformes azuis-marinhos See them bright and shiny things See them bright and shiny things Os vejo brilhar e coisas brilhantes Bright shiny things Bright shiny things Coisas brilhantes The temperature is rising The temperature is rising A temperatura está elevando The fever white hot The fever white hot A febre bem quente Mister, I ain't got nothing Mister, I ain't got nothing Senhor, eu não tenho nada But it's more than you got But it's more than you got Mas é mais do que você tem Chains no longer bind me Chains no longer bind me Essas correntes não me prendem mais Not the shackles at my feet Not the shackles at my feet Nem as algemas em meus pés Outside are the prisoners Outside are the prisoners Lá fora estão os prisioneiros Inside the free Inside the free Aqui dentro os livres Set them free Set them free Liberte-os Set them free Set them free Liberte-os A prize fighter in a corner is told A prize fighter in a corner is told O lutador premiado no canto é avisado Hit where it hurts Hit where it hurts Atinja onde dói Silver and gold Silver and gold Prata e ouro Silver and gold Silver and gold Prata e ouro [spoken part follows:] [spoken part follows:] [seguintes partes faladas:] Yep, silver and gold... This song was written in a hotel room in New York city 'round about the time a friend or 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. Yep, silver and gold... This song was written in a hotel room in New York city 'round about the time a friend or 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. "Prata e Ouro... Esta canção foi composta em um quarto de hotel na cidade de Nova York para o álbum United Artists Against Apartheid. Fala de um homem que reside numa favela nos arredore de Joanesburgo, farto das imposições das armas brancas e que pela omissão do Ocidente, está prestes a utilizar armas também." Am I buggin' you? I don't mean to bug ya... Am I buggin' you? I don't mean to bug ya... Eu esou te irritando? Eu não acho que estou te irritando... Okay Edge, play the blues... Okay Edge, play the blues... Ok Edge, toque o blues...