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 nobody knows   if it really happened