 Blues ain't culture. They sounds of oppression against the white man's game he's run on us all these blue years. Blues is struggle, strangulation of our people. Cause we couldn't off the white mother, socking it to us. But now, when I hear Billy's soft, soulful sighs of, am I blue? I say, no, sweet Billy. No more. No more blue trains running on this track. They all been derailed. Am I blue, sweet?