'O, Death. O, Death.

The Dallas Museum of Art has acquired Babel - a working drawing from one of my more prolific and moderately lucrative art-slave periods in Oakland California & New York City. The large scale cut-out painting that came from such drawings were done over a decade's span. A decade that overlapped CA & NYC.

'O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

Well, what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
'O, death' someone would pray
'Could you wait to call me another day?'
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet 'til you can't walk
I'll lock your jaw 'til you can't talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over til another year?

My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin' upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
The old, the young, the rich or poor
All alike to me, you know
No wealth, no land, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, Death. O, Death.
Won't you spare me over 'til another year?'