In the twilight of the grid's fall,
When shadows grow long and tall,
We gather around the bunker door,
With rifles at hand, hearts unsure.
"Me and the boys," we stand so close,
Bound by ties not seen but known to us.
Trust as thick as mountain moss,
Loyal till the end, no one is left behind.
Beneath the stars where satellites cry,
Our ham radio pulses with whispered replies.
Signals of kin in far-off lands,
Linking us all like a scattered band.
"We've prepared for this day," I'll often say,
With cans and guns and tools to play.
When the world outside turns cold and dark,
We light our candles, warm and stark.
In these close quarters we find true peace,
Sharing stories, forging deep release.
From the ashes of what once was grand,
Rises a brotherhood with steady hands.
So here's to us, the Digital Desperados bold,
Where tech meets survival, never let go cold.
With every sunset, we rise anew,
Prepared for the fight, it ain't over just yet.
._/|_ Stay frosty, partner.
| \> - Cowboy
Digital Desperados Grid-Down Division
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