“That’s How Every Empire Falls” was written by R.B. Morris, but showcased by John Prine. In these times, I can’t help thinking about it all the time.
He toasts his wife and all his family, the providence he brought to bearThey raise their glasses in his honor although this union they don’t shareA man who lives among them was still a stranger to them allFor when the heart is never open, That’s how every empire falls,
Padlock the door and board the windows, put the people in the street“It’s just my job,” he says, “I’m sorry,” and draws a check, goes home to eatAt night he tells his woman, “I know I hide behind the laws”She says, “You’re only taking orders”: That’s how every empire falls
A bitter wind blows through the country, a hard rain falls on the seaIf terror comes without a warning, there must be something we don’t seeWhat fire begets this fire, like torches thrown into the straw?If no one asks, then no one answers: That’s how every empire falls.
