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Kansas Road Trip
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Coldplay/Aqualung-ish, with a lot of loops and beats and whatnot
matt harmon harmon doming
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if everyone would just listen to my music, i swear there'd be no more war. just try it. if the military conflicts in your life don't completely disappear in 3
i'm a berklee guy who writes/records pop/rock/alt songs. all instruments on this page were played/recorded by me unless otherwise noted
Song Info
Genre
Electronic Ambient
Charts
#28,367 today Peak #150
#3,637 in subgenre Peak #41
Author
Matt Harmon
Rights
2005
Uploaded
July 01, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.5 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
KRT is about these horrible people led by a 5-point Calvinist preacher named Fred Phelps... they belong to a church in Kansas, and they seem to believe that, despite the recurring theme of "God=love" in the bible, God actually hates gay people, and also, interestingly enough, America and Sweden. They run three websites, "GodHatesFags.com", "GodHatesSweden.com", and, you guessed it, "GodHatesAmerica.com", and they tour the country doing things like picketting the funerals of gay soldiers who died in Iraq, carrying signs that say things like "Thank God for IED's" (IED's are explosive devices insurgents have used to kill soldiers over there) and "Your Son Is in Hell". Enjoy the song, and if you see Pastor Fred and his people, give them hell.
Lyrics
a merry band of men the women home baking bread travel the nation selling what god said through the mouths of fallen men but irony is just a tool of devils, sodomites, and fools so you pay attention only when it's born in range of the buses you employ to spread good news for all the lies you tell your children now make sure you never tell them how god is not on your side so here's a glass to tragedy toast to your favorite calamity you'll all hold hands around the ruins of society and curse everything that you can see the message of love is the art of demons 'cause when you sin god gets even the time for love is long since through hell on earth overdue schools and churches, picket lines a funeral, break out the signs for now you're stuck here and there's been no hail of fire and in secret, you sulk wondering why
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