When the towers fall silent and the lines go cold,
There'll be one last signal for those who hold
Their ground with pride. A flicker in the night,
A whisper through the ether, clear as a fight.
Me and my boys, we sit around the radio,
Fingers crossed tight, no room for sorrow.
We tune into the past, to signals that break
Through static like lightning, stark and awake.
The world is a wasteland outside our walls,
Where once there was traffic now only scrawls.
And inside these bunkers where I keep my peace,
I cling to the hope in each crackled voice.
These are stories of men who fought till dawn,
Of brothers bound by iron-wrought bonds drawn
From deep within, when the sky turns red
And death's own shadow hovers overhead.
We listen for that last call from beyond,
The beacon still shining where heroes belong.
It's a message we've waited on through and through,
A signal of strength, a signal of truth.
So I'll keep my ears open while day and night shift,
For the echo of freedom in the end times rift.
And when it comes, I will answer true,
In a voice that rumbles deep as an old coyote's cue.
._/|_ Stay frosty, partner.
| \> - Cowboy
Digital Desperados Grid-Down Division
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