Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > You Make Me Live
Sweet Freedom?
1 reviewGuest starring Stevie Wonder. Song not by him, though. I heard it on the way to college the other day and it put me in a great mood. Hahaha.
0Unrated
We'll be dancing in the moonlight
Smiling with the rising sun
Living like we've never done
Going all the way
Reaching out to meet the changes
Touching every shining star
The light of tomorrow is right where we are
There's no turning back
From what I'm feeling
Shine, sweet freedom, shine the light on me
You are the magic
You’re right where I wanna be
Oh, sweet freedom, carry me along
We’ll keep the spirit alive on and on…
‘OK, that’s great. Let’s cut it there. Awesome.’
Stevie Wonder took off the headphones with a grin, hanging them back up and pushing the door open. He went over to the chair in the corner and adjusted his shades as Patrick flipped his hat up.
‘That’s some great stuff, man. Just add some piano to that, maybe some guitars for a different feel… Is that what you were going for?’
‘Hmm… well, not originally, but I like the sound of that!’
‘Awesome! Right, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
They shook hands briefly before Stevie left the room, and Patrick screamed silently, jumping up and down. Stevie Wonder! OMG! he thought, actually squealing out loud before realising how stupid he looked, even by his own standards. He straightened his hat, cleared his throat, remembering he was a major producer, he had to be professional, he was twenty-six today… Twenty-six. How old, he thought, looking in the glass of the recording booth. He hated his round face and strange eyes. No matter how many people said he was ‘adorable’, he’d never quite got it.
He pulled on his jacket, locked up the studio and drove home, looking forward to seeing Penny. Since the last… incident, he’d given up on girlfriends. They were a total waste of time. All they ever did was hurt. No, you could rely much more on a dog, man’s best friend. Penny was the only one for him. He felt a bit sad, admitting that, but she’d always been there for him no matter what.
Upon arriving home Patrick saw light coming from the lounge. The curtains were closed, but it was noticeable. For a moment he panicked, and then realised it was probably just Andy and Joe. He’d always regretted giving them spare keys to his house. Especially when Joe came round about once a week, complained he had no beer in the house, checked the fridge, remembered Patrick didn’t drink, and sat down beer-less to play Mario Kart for three hours.
It was the same tonight, plus Andy, who was determined not to let Patrick win even though it was his birthday. They went out to the kitchen briefly for a drink and noticed some envelopes lying on the table.
‘Hey, dude! Didn’t you open your cards this morning?’
‘No, I must have forgot! I was in a rush. Guess who swung by today?’
‘Erm… The Hulk!’ Joe called from the other room.
‘Not quite. Stevie Wonder.’
There was a pause, which Patrick thought was for effect. Andy made an interested noise politely and started back to the other room, Joe stuffing his face with pizza.
‘Come on, you guys! Stevie Wonder! It’s for this great charity single! Ste-vie-Won-der!’
‘Here’s a banana peel for your ass…’ Andy murmured, picking up the controller and sending Joe/Donkey Kong off course.
Patrick sighed and flopped down next to them. They’d always have different tastes in music, and it would seem different priorities in life: Patrick to produce a charity single, raising millions for suffering people; Andy and Joe to play computer games. Their games continued for a couple of hours before Patrick yawned loudly.
‘Sorry, guys, we’re gonna have to make this the last game. I’m exhausted.’
‘What?! Come on, man, you’re only twenty-six once!’
‘Yeah, and you’re only twelve once too. How many games is this?’
‘…Eighty-nine.’
The boys sighed in defeat, and all tried their hardest to win, ending up with Joe the winner, Patrick second and Andy third. He stomped outside into the cool air, Joe laughing and bidding Patrick goodnight. As the door closed silence reigned once again, and Patrick switched everything off, making sure Penny was safe and asleep in her basket, and climbed the stairs to bed. He pulled the covers over him and everything was quiet… until the phone rang.
He reached over and answered grumpily.
‘Hello?’
There were some barely audible murmurs at the other end. He frowned and looked at the number on the phone’s display. Not one he recognised. How odd.
‘Can you speak up? Who is this, please?’
‘Uh… h-hey…’
A shiver ran up Patrick’s spine. He definitely knew who it was now.
‘Oh no, what do you want?’
‘Just to talk to my old buddy Patrick…’
‘What?’
‘It’s your birthday. I w-wouldn’t forget… something like that…’
The voice was slurred and slow. Pete had obviously been drinking.
‘I thought you didn’t drink any more.’
‘What? I’m not drunk. Maybe you are… drunk...’
‘Pete, just leave me alone. Surely Ashlee can sort you out.’
He was about to hang up when he heard a little moan.
‘She’s – she’s not… here right now… she went on a little trip with some – some girlfriends… All I’ve got is my boy.’
‘What? You’re drunk, with a one-year-old in the house?!’
‘Don’t yell at me... you don't know how hard this is already...’ Pete moaned, sniffing. He was evidently crying. ‘Just lemme talk… lemme chat to you – about your day –’
‘Goodnight, Pete.’
‘No! Don’t hang up on me! Don’t go, Patrick! Come on!'
He was left listening to the dialling tone once again. The phone fell to the floor, the ‘end call’ button fortunately being pressed, and Pete stood and shakily made his way to bed. He lay with his head at the foot of the bed, his fingers trembling over Bronx’s sleeping head. It was a stupid moment of weakness, calling Patrick. He knew better than to go begging back to him again. But somehow, as his fingers slipped into the cot as he fell asleep, the tears were still coming down. He hoped Ashlee would get back soon. Someone had to sort him out.
Smiling with the rising sun
Living like we've never done
Going all the way
Reaching out to meet the changes
Touching every shining star
The light of tomorrow is right where we are
There's no turning back
From what I'm feeling
Shine, sweet freedom, shine the light on me
You are the magic
You’re right where I wanna be
Oh, sweet freedom, carry me along
We’ll keep the spirit alive on and on…
‘OK, that’s great. Let’s cut it there. Awesome.’
Stevie Wonder took off the headphones with a grin, hanging them back up and pushing the door open. He went over to the chair in the corner and adjusted his shades as Patrick flipped his hat up.
‘That’s some great stuff, man. Just add some piano to that, maybe some guitars for a different feel… Is that what you were going for?’
‘Hmm… well, not originally, but I like the sound of that!’
‘Awesome! Right, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
They shook hands briefly before Stevie left the room, and Patrick screamed silently, jumping up and down. Stevie Wonder! OMG! he thought, actually squealing out loud before realising how stupid he looked, even by his own standards. He straightened his hat, cleared his throat, remembering he was a major producer, he had to be professional, he was twenty-six today… Twenty-six. How old, he thought, looking in the glass of the recording booth. He hated his round face and strange eyes. No matter how many people said he was ‘adorable’, he’d never quite got it.
He pulled on his jacket, locked up the studio and drove home, looking forward to seeing Penny. Since the last… incident, he’d given up on girlfriends. They were a total waste of time. All they ever did was hurt. No, you could rely much more on a dog, man’s best friend. Penny was the only one for him. He felt a bit sad, admitting that, but she’d always been there for him no matter what.
Upon arriving home Patrick saw light coming from the lounge. The curtains were closed, but it was noticeable. For a moment he panicked, and then realised it was probably just Andy and Joe. He’d always regretted giving them spare keys to his house. Especially when Joe came round about once a week, complained he had no beer in the house, checked the fridge, remembered Patrick didn’t drink, and sat down beer-less to play Mario Kart for three hours.
It was the same tonight, plus Andy, who was determined not to let Patrick win even though it was his birthday. They went out to the kitchen briefly for a drink and noticed some envelopes lying on the table.
‘Hey, dude! Didn’t you open your cards this morning?’
‘No, I must have forgot! I was in a rush. Guess who swung by today?’
‘Erm… The Hulk!’ Joe called from the other room.
‘Not quite. Stevie Wonder.’
There was a pause, which Patrick thought was for effect. Andy made an interested noise politely and started back to the other room, Joe stuffing his face with pizza.
‘Come on, you guys! Stevie Wonder! It’s for this great charity single! Ste-vie-Won-der!’
‘Here’s a banana peel for your ass…’ Andy murmured, picking up the controller and sending Joe/Donkey Kong off course.
Patrick sighed and flopped down next to them. They’d always have different tastes in music, and it would seem different priorities in life: Patrick to produce a charity single, raising millions for suffering people; Andy and Joe to play computer games. Their games continued for a couple of hours before Patrick yawned loudly.
‘Sorry, guys, we’re gonna have to make this the last game. I’m exhausted.’
‘What?! Come on, man, you’re only twenty-six once!’
‘Yeah, and you’re only twelve once too. How many games is this?’
‘…Eighty-nine.’
The boys sighed in defeat, and all tried their hardest to win, ending up with Joe the winner, Patrick second and Andy third. He stomped outside into the cool air, Joe laughing and bidding Patrick goodnight. As the door closed silence reigned once again, and Patrick switched everything off, making sure Penny was safe and asleep in her basket, and climbed the stairs to bed. He pulled the covers over him and everything was quiet… until the phone rang.
He reached over and answered grumpily.
‘Hello?’
There were some barely audible murmurs at the other end. He frowned and looked at the number on the phone’s display. Not one he recognised. How odd.
‘Can you speak up? Who is this, please?’
‘Uh… h-hey…’
A shiver ran up Patrick’s spine. He definitely knew who it was now.
‘Oh no, what do you want?’
‘Just to talk to my old buddy Patrick…’
‘What?’
‘It’s your birthday. I w-wouldn’t forget… something like that…’
The voice was slurred and slow. Pete had obviously been drinking.
‘I thought you didn’t drink any more.’
‘What? I’m not drunk. Maybe you are… drunk...’
‘Pete, just leave me alone. Surely Ashlee can sort you out.’
He was about to hang up when he heard a little moan.
‘She’s – she’s not… here right now… she went on a little trip with some – some girlfriends… All I’ve got is my boy.’
‘What? You’re drunk, with a one-year-old in the house?!’
‘Don’t yell at me... you don't know how hard this is already...’ Pete moaned, sniffing. He was evidently crying. ‘Just lemme talk… lemme chat to you – about your day –’
‘Goodnight, Pete.’
‘No! Don’t hang up on me! Don’t go, Patrick! Come on!'
He was left listening to the dialling tone once again. The phone fell to the floor, the ‘end call’ button fortunately being pressed, and Pete stood and shakily made his way to bed. He lay with his head at the foot of the bed, his fingers trembling over Bronx’s sleeping head. It was a stupid moment of weakness, calling Patrick. He knew better than to go begging back to him again. But somehow, as his fingers slipped into the cot as he fell asleep, the tears were still coming down. He hoped Ashlee would get back soon. Someone had to sort him out.
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