
Verse I Green bubbles lighting up another Sunday afternoon, Rabbit holes and broken halos underneath a pale blue moon. Jack Parsons, flying saucers, whispers in the static air, Everybody’s selling answers… Nobody gets there. You said, “My phone started ringing…” Only one name lit the screen. No number. No warning. Just… Michael. The voice asked softly, “Do you know who rules the principalities?” Then you woke before the answer like smoke before the flame. ⸻ Pre-Chorus Some people chase money. Some chase fame. We chase questions that don’t fit inside a frame. ⸻ Chorus If the devil’s got a problem… Tell him get in line. Hell can take a number— We’re doing just fine. We’ve got old guitars… green bubbles… cheap laughs… and borrowed time. ⸻ Verse II Alice in Chains inside a shoe store. Doc Martens by the door. Selling Uggs to pay the bills, dreaming something more. Fr. Chris starts preaching and you text, “Man…I think I’m coming home.” I laughed… *“Brother… Welcome back.”* Some roads were always leading there. ⸻ Verse III Bench press. Rosaries. Grunge riffs after dark. Saint Michael with a sword while Seattle left its mark. You sent castles in the ocean. Ancient mountains kissed the sky. Enoch. Trees of Life. Questions nobody can buy. Meanwhile… My truck exploded. Your refrigerator died. Life kept throwing punches. We just laughed and stayed alive. ⸻ Chorus If the devil’s got a problem… Tell him get in line. Hell can take a number— We’re doing just fine. The world’s gone sideways. The headlines lie. So pour another coffee… We’ll outlive another night. ⸻ Bridge TikTok prophets. Catholic saints. AI writing songs. Conspiracies. Old memories. Trying to figure out where we belong. Some people call it madness. Some call it grace. Sometimes they’re only one heartbeat apart. ⸻ Breakdown You dreamed Michael called. I sent the prayer. You found your way back toward the Church. I found another reason to believe friendship might be one of God’s favorite miracles. Not because it makes life easy— Because it makes life bearable. ⸻ Final Chorus If the devil’s got a problem… He can get in line. Hell can take a number— We’re already on borrowed time. Michael’s got a sword. Christ already won. We’re just making noise until the morning comes. Raise another laugh. Raise another prayer. Raise another glass. We made it this far. ⸻ Outro Green bubbles. Gray replies. Thirty years without pretending. Just two old friends laughing at the darkness… while chasing the Light. If the devil’s got a problem… He can get in line. Hell can take a number. We’ve got stories left to write.
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