Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > G.I.N.A.S.F.S.
Fix me in 45
7 reviewsAnd yet another heart has been colored on the floor. But what is it that makes me transparent? I think that you're just a painter and I'm just the brain in your pants.
3Original
This story isn't supposed to start with a funeral.
Maybe ponies? Puppies named Hemingway? Apple trees? Or years old poetry?
No. This story starts with a funeral, and the guy in the casket isn't quite as surprising as you'd think.
"so long live the car crash heart
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty five"
It seems only months ago he was sitting in the recording studio saying /"the only thing I haven't done yet is die"/
I guess now he has done everything. He was the best man at his best friend's wedding (which, at the time, his best friend thought would never happen) he was there when Andy and Ryanne had their first kid and he was there when Joe needed someone to trust and lean on when things got rough.
He was a part of them. He was, in many ways, the man who made them who they are today...and it all ended it a flash.
He was walking down an alley way alone one night. Humming to himself and thinking about things. Then...
He was mugged. The guys made a pulp of his flesh. The first one to hit him was the biggest, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Then they all began to take turns holding him and punching him. Calling him a whimp, telling him he's trash and he has no reason to live. The biggest one kept punching him in the face over and over again...he wished it would stop. They beat him and kicked him until he couldn't move, hardly breathing...
Then the bigger one spat on him, and laughed. Then they walked off, leaving this bloody mess of a man to crawl to his cell phone and call the one guy he knew would help...
"Patrick?" Andy whispered past the people between them, "They're motioning you to speak."
Patrick snapped out of the daze he seemed to be in, his best friend is dead, and he felt horribly guilty for it. He stood up and made his way to the pulpit which was stationed on a small mound of grass near the casket.
He cleared his throat, "Pete was my best friend, my best man, an amazingly talented lyricist, a great guy, a loyal friend, fan, and family member. He had his way of making us happy even if he wasn't. He never let his weaknessess show and I still to this day am amazed," Patrick wiped his eyes, "amazed, by the fact that he could keep such a postuture to his image that would make him who he was. He could always do what I couldn't. He was great at photoshoots and I hated them, he was great at writting lyrics and I was the musical part. No matter how you put it he was an amazing best friend, and overall..."
Patrick turned to look at the half open casket, and then back at the crowd, "He was like my other half. Now I know what it's like to loose a limb, or two. I wish that Pete makes it in the after life and...I wish you well buddy."
"Last summer we took threes across the board
but by fall we were a cover story
now in stores
make us poster boys in the scene
but we are not making our accepting speech"
They all got their chances to say goodbye to the once loved idol of the world, whom to them was just a great friend who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Patrick didn't think that. He knew those muggers did it on purpose. He knew that they ment Pete harm and that Pete shouldn't have gone on that walk, but Patrick felt it was more his fault than anyones, he was the reason that Pete had to "think"...
Pete and Patrick are talking, just talking, about toy boats and ex girlfriends, the usual. Then Patrick picks up a deck of cards and starts shuffing it.
"What's wrong rickster?" He asked, Patrick gave no responce.
"Okay. Now, I know something is wrong, tell me what it is or I'll force it out of ya." Patrick swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat.
"Do you think we'll always be best friends? I mean do you think that maybe one day something will happen and we may not be friends anymore? Or what happens if one of us was to like the other or something and hurt our friendship?" Pete was shocked and confused.
"I dunno..." Patrick laughed, "I'm sorry, dumb question huh?" Pete just looked blankly at him, then shot up and grabbed his coat.
"Where are you goin?" Pat asked in a questing tone. "Just to think about stuff." Pete answered not looking back at him.
"Like what?" Pete began to open the door, he turned and shrugged, "Just stuff..."
And he walked out on Patrick's life forever.
Patrick was the last in line but he was also the one with the most to say, but no way to say it.
"I love you Pete. I really do. Bet you can't hear me though can you? Jesus. I shouldn't have let you walk out that door. I knew something bad was going to happen. I just wish you were here still..." Patrick fixed his tie, "Just remember not to forget about me in heaven." god. that was corny.
"so long live the car crash heart
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty five"
They watched the casket descend into the dark abiss of the earth. Andy, Joe, and Patrick were joined by other close friends and they dropped roses to the cold hard casket in-which their dearest friend lay. All of their hearts heavy as they said goodbye to a light that they never expected to go out.
"i have found the safest place to keep all of our mistakes
every dot com's refreshing for a journal update"
They never knew it would end that way.
They never knew it would end.
It was like the end of summer.
The forever burning torch that went out, due to heavy showers and heavy eyes.
"and it's me and my plus one in the afterlife
crowds are won and lost and won again
but all our hearts beat for the diehards"
They chanted,
"so long live the car crash hearts
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty-five" as they watched the man-boy wonder disappear into the hole that held his flesh's fate.
This story isn't supposed to start with a funeral.
Maybe ponies? Puppies named Hemingway? Apple trees? Or years old poetry?
No. This story starts with a funeral, and the guy in the casket isn't quite as surprising as you'd think. And from every ending forms a new begining, right? And as you watch that last bit of hope for your friend to wake up flicker and die you notice that maybe something great will come from this.
and maybe, just maybe, this isn't really the end of the story.
Maybe ponies? Puppies named Hemingway? Apple trees? Or years old poetry?
No. This story starts with a funeral, and the guy in the casket isn't quite as surprising as you'd think.
"so long live the car crash heart
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty five"
It seems only months ago he was sitting in the recording studio saying /"the only thing I haven't done yet is die"/
I guess now he has done everything. He was the best man at his best friend's wedding (which, at the time, his best friend thought would never happen) he was there when Andy and Ryanne had their first kid and he was there when Joe needed someone to trust and lean on when things got rough.
He was a part of them. He was, in many ways, the man who made them who they are today...and it all ended it a flash.
He was walking down an alley way alone one night. Humming to himself and thinking about things. Then...
He was mugged. The guys made a pulp of his flesh. The first one to hit him was the biggest, knocking him to the ground with a thud. Then they all began to take turns holding him and punching him. Calling him a whimp, telling him he's trash and he has no reason to live. The biggest one kept punching him in the face over and over again...he wished it would stop. They beat him and kicked him until he couldn't move, hardly breathing...
Then the bigger one spat on him, and laughed. Then they walked off, leaving this bloody mess of a man to crawl to his cell phone and call the one guy he knew would help...
"Patrick?" Andy whispered past the people between them, "They're motioning you to speak."
Patrick snapped out of the daze he seemed to be in, his best friend is dead, and he felt horribly guilty for it. He stood up and made his way to the pulpit which was stationed on a small mound of grass near the casket.
He cleared his throat, "Pete was my best friend, my best man, an amazingly talented lyricist, a great guy, a loyal friend, fan, and family member. He had his way of making us happy even if he wasn't. He never let his weaknessess show and I still to this day am amazed," Patrick wiped his eyes, "amazed, by the fact that he could keep such a postuture to his image that would make him who he was. He could always do what I couldn't. He was great at photoshoots and I hated them, he was great at writting lyrics and I was the musical part. No matter how you put it he was an amazing best friend, and overall..."
Patrick turned to look at the half open casket, and then back at the crowd, "He was like my other half. Now I know what it's like to loose a limb, or two. I wish that Pete makes it in the after life and...I wish you well buddy."
"Last summer we took threes across the board
but by fall we were a cover story
now in stores
make us poster boys in the scene
but we are not making our accepting speech"
They all got their chances to say goodbye to the once loved idol of the world, whom to them was just a great friend who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Patrick didn't think that. He knew those muggers did it on purpose. He knew that they ment Pete harm and that Pete shouldn't have gone on that walk, but Patrick felt it was more his fault than anyones, he was the reason that Pete had to "think"...
Pete and Patrick are talking, just talking, about toy boats and ex girlfriends, the usual. Then Patrick picks up a deck of cards and starts shuffing it.
"What's wrong rickster?" He asked, Patrick gave no responce.
"Okay. Now, I know something is wrong, tell me what it is or I'll force it out of ya." Patrick swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat.
"Do you think we'll always be best friends? I mean do you think that maybe one day something will happen and we may not be friends anymore? Or what happens if one of us was to like the other or something and hurt our friendship?" Pete was shocked and confused.
"I dunno..." Patrick laughed, "I'm sorry, dumb question huh?" Pete just looked blankly at him, then shot up and grabbed his coat.
"Where are you goin?" Pat asked in a questing tone. "Just to think about stuff." Pete answered not looking back at him.
"Like what?" Pete began to open the door, he turned and shrugged, "Just stuff..."
And he walked out on Patrick's life forever.
Patrick was the last in line but he was also the one with the most to say, but no way to say it.
"I love you Pete. I really do. Bet you can't hear me though can you? Jesus. I shouldn't have let you walk out that door. I knew something bad was going to happen. I just wish you were here still..." Patrick fixed his tie, "Just remember not to forget about me in heaven." god. that was corny.
"so long live the car crash heart
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty five"
They watched the casket descend into the dark abiss of the earth. Andy, Joe, and Patrick were joined by other close friends and they dropped roses to the cold hard casket in-which their dearest friend lay. All of their hearts heavy as they said goodbye to a light that they never expected to go out.
"i have found the safest place to keep all of our mistakes
every dot com's refreshing for a journal update"
They never knew it would end that way.
They never knew it would end.
It was like the end of summer.
The forever burning torch that went out, due to heavy showers and heavy eyes.
"and it's me and my plus one in the afterlife
crowds are won and lost and won again
but all our hearts beat for the diehards"
They chanted,
"so long live the car crash hearts
cry on the couch til the poets come to life
fix me in forty-five" as they watched the man-boy wonder disappear into the hole that held his flesh's fate.
This story isn't supposed to start with a funeral.
Maybe ponies? Puppies named Hemingway? Apple trees? Or years old poetry?
No. This story starts with a funeral, and the guy in the casket isn't quite as surprising as you'd think. And from every ending forms a new begining, right? And as you watch that last bit of hope for your friend to wake up flicker and die you notice that maybe something great will come from this.
and maybe, just maybe, this isn't really the end of the story.
Sign up to rate and review this story