Entranced by the haunting melody of "Time's Favorite Slaves," the listener is drawn into the abyss. The lyrics weave a dark tale of a doomed love, where the couple, entangled in the relentless grasp of time, find solace in their shared destiny. As the waves of the beach become their clandestine cover, the lovers sink into the sands of mortality, embracing their inevitable demise.

The verses echo the melancholy of a love that defies the constraints of time. The repetition of being "Time's favorite slaves" underscores the relentless cycle they endure, returning day after day, yet finding sanctuary next to each other in an eternal embrace. The absence of games and the bravery in love paint a portrait of a connection beyond earthly trivialities—two souls intertwined as twin flames destined to set the world ablaze.

The emotional crescendo reaches its pinnacle with an unexplainable feeling, where minds have gone awry, and the singer fervently hopes for a reunion beyond the veil of goodbye. The repetition of being "Time's favorite slaves" becomes a haunting refrain, symbolizing the perpetual struggle against an impending fate.

"Time's Favorite Slaves" is a poetic symphony of dark romanticism, a lamentation on love's immortality in the face of an inexorable destiny. The song leaves an indelible mark, inviting listeners to immerse themselves in the shadowy depths of a love that transcends the boundaries of time and mortality.

Time’s Favorite Slaves (prod. by 96bbyy)

(Verse 1) In the heart of Vermont’s green embrace, Where the mountains kiss the sky with grace, Stands our alma mater, strong and true, Oh Slaters, we sing to you.

(Chorus) Oh, Slaters, Slaters, raise your voices high, Through halls and fields, under the open sky, We stand united, colors bold and bright, Guided by knowledge, our beacon of light.

(Verse 2) From Mechanic Street to the rolling hills, Where dreams take flight and courage instills, We learn, we strive, we forge our way, In the shadow of Everest, we proudly sway.

(Chorus) Oh, Slaters, Slaters, raise your voices high, Through halls and fields, under the open sky, We stand united, colors bold and bright, Guided by knowledge, our beacon of light.

(Bridge) In classrooms humming with curiosity, In gymnasiums echoing with victory, We build friendships, memories that endure, Our legacy etched in every brick and floor.

(Verse 3) Teachers, mentors, guiding stars, Igniting flames within our hearts, Math and science, art and song, In unity, we find where we belong.

(Chorus) Oh, Slaters, Slaters, raise your voices high, Through halls and fields, under the open sky, We stand united, colors bold and bright, Guided by knowledge, our beacon of light.

(Outro) As seasons change and years unfold, We carry the spirit of white and blue, Fair Haven Slaters, forever we’ll proclaim, In our hearts, you’ll always be the flame.

Slaters’ Anthem

Commander Mark, Thank you for inspiring generations of artists.  You are a remarkable human!

Symmetry of imagination, where colors come alive, There’s a place called the Secret City, where dreams and art collide. Mark Kistler, with a pencil in his hand, Taught us to draw 3D worlds so easy to understand!

Foreshortened circles as his guide, 
Mark stood tall, an Emmy-award-winning host, Making magic slide.
His hands moved with ease as he crafted, with all the secret cities he drafted.

The Secret City, where lines danced and soared, Mark’s hand-drawn worlds, our hearts truly adored.  With books sold by the million, his legacy remains,  Commander Mark, forever in our creative veins.

From the opening credits, that rocket took flight, Mark’s passion ignited, teaching art with pure delight. Draw Squad, Imagination Station, oh, the memories we hold, In the pre-YouTube era, his teachings were gold.

With pencils and paper, we followed his lead, Drawing cubes, spheres, and dragons, planting artistic seeds. Mark Kistler, the legend, our imaginations set free, In the Secret City, we found our creativity.

The Secret City, where lines danced and soared, Mark’s hand-drawn worlds, our hearts truly adored. With books sold by the million, his legacy remains, Commander Mark, forever in our creative veins.

With pencils and paper, the castles, and the skies, Mark’s voice echoing, “You can draw, realize!” We sketched alongside him, our pencils full of fire,  In the Secret City, our dreams reached higher.

The Secret City, where lines danced and soared, Mark’s hand-drawn worlds, our hearts truly adored. With books sold by the million, his legacy remains, Commander Mark, forever in our creative veins.

As the credits rolled, we held our drawings tight, Grateful for Mark Kistler’s magic, shining so bright. The Secret City, a place we’ll never forget, Where art met adventure, and our imaginations met.

Mark Kistler Anthem

Listen, children, to a story
That was written long ago
'Bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley-folk below

On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath the stone
And the valley-people swore
They'd have it for their very own

Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day
On the bloody morning after
One tin soldier rides away (rides away)

So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the hill
Asking for the buried treasure
Tons of gold for which they'd kill

It came an answer from the mountain
With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of our mountain
All the riches buried there

Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day
On the bloody morning after
One tin soldier rides away

Now the valley cried with anger
"Mount your horses! Draw your sword!"
And they killed the mountain-people
So they won their just reward
Now they stood beside the treasure
On the mountain, dark and red
Turned the stone and looked beneath it
"Peace on Earth" was all it said

One Tin Soldier

Social Repose - Villain

Through It All - Single

Through It All

My journey from an abused foster child to award winning foster/adoptive parent has refined me into the person I am today.  Kindness should never have a return value.  I hope you enjoy my music and stories as I've learned to reciprocate kindness by failing often. My mom always told me "Life is not defined by how successful you are, it's defined by how well you learn from your mistakes.

Mark Kistler Anthem

SPOTAPOD

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