Mr. Backlash, Mr. Backlash
Who do think I am?
You raise my taxes, and freeze my wages
And send my son to Vietnam

You give me second class houses
And second class schools
Do you think that all colored folks
Are just second class fools?

Mr. Backlash
I'm gonna leave you with the blues

When I try to find a job
To earn a little cash
All you got to offer
Is your mean old white backlash

But the world is big
Big and bright and round
And it's full of other folks like me
Who are black, yellow, beige and brown

Mr. Backlash
I'm gonna leave you with the blues
Yes, I am
When Langston Hughes died
He told me many months before
He said, "Nina, keep on working
Until they open up the door
One of these days when they open it
And the doors are open wide
Make sure you tell them where it's at
So they'll have no place to hide"

So I'm telling you
I warning you
I'm telling you
Now, somehow, someway
I'm gonna leave you
With the blues