The bells ring out on Sunday morning
like echoes from another time
All our innocence and yearning
and sense of wonder left behind
Oh gentle hearts remember,
What was that story? Is it lost?
For when religion loses vision,
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 eat
At night he tells his woman,
“I know I hide behind the laws”
She says, “You’re only taking orders”:
That’s how every empire fallsA bitter wind blows through the country,
a hard rain falls on the sea
If terror comes without a warning,
there must be something we don’t see
What fire begets this fire,
like torches thrown into the straw?
If no one asks, then no one answers:
That’s how every empire falls