Are we supposed to be or not to be? Said the angel to the Queen I lift up my skirt and Voltaire turns As he speaks, his mouth full of garlic White, yes, white Misfortune of us two He told you to be free And you obeyed We have to decide which is important A war we never see Or a street so black babies die? A system and a theory Or our wish to be free? To organise and analyse And at the end realise That knowbody knows If it really happened
