I am a P.O.W.
Not a prisoner of war, a prisoner of words. Like a soldier, I'm a fighter, yet only a puppet.
Mostly I only say what you wanna hear. Could you take it if I came
clear? Or would you rather see me stoned on a drug of complacency and
compromise? M.I.A. I guess that's what I am, scraping this cold earth
for a piece of myself, for peace
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