Serial Killers

In silent chambers where signals weave,
A dance of bits that never leave,
RS-232, the ancient thread,
Connects the minds that once were led.



Terminals whisper, flicker, glow,
A gateway where the data flows,
From distant worlds to fingertips,
A bridge built on electric scripts.



Through years of tech’s relentless march,
A history etched in circuitry’s arch,
From humble wires to modern streams,
The heartbeat of our digital dreams.



Serial’s song, a steady beat,
Unites the hardware, makes it complete,
A tale of service, patience, grace,
In every byte, a human trace.



So here’s to those who kept it alive,
In the age of rapid, endless drive,
Their craft sustained the silent call,
Ensuring systems never fall.



In every pulse, a story spun,
Of progress, trust, the race begun,
A legacy of wired art,
Connecting minds, and hearts, and parts.

folk guitar, male vocal, Folk, Introspective, Androgynous Vocals, Steel Guitar, Laid-Back