Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the and I was raised in a
lower middle class family with only one Michael whom I love
dearly. He was years my senior. My father's nickname was Red which I
could never understand why his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my brother was my father became Big Red and
my brother Red. I should have known from the first time when I
their special connection, that I just didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew older the comparison between my
and myself left little doubt who was the image of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my brother do no wrong and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon out that
red and don't mix. The beatings I received became more and more
frequent to the point where I ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you would need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my father
upon.

My brother and I were a mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to we came from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the father, but I always dismissed that
idea as my was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
think of such a thing. But my who had always sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities his best to encourage me. For I was born
different and he it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and me with a magic wand and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no idea what 'The one' was, but as I older I began to
understand. Most boys put their on a pedestal and worship them like
the Virgin Mary but with her too my was different and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed she read, true or not, and when it came
to religion was over-zealous to say the least. A boggling combination
but she was pretty, very pretty and I would often wonder, on
complete confusion, how a person of description could rationalise life.

This was a series of that many times in my life I would
back on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was older
would be like her. In the pain of youth, the misery of my neglect,
would manifest itself in ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - fuel for my fire. four
characteristics of my personality would become the guiding of my
life and would control everything I did or was to become. I explain
later in the story them which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great plaything for vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of and other, my alter ego and its
magnificent with a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as
a chilling of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the
one I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household I could be great, where I could be anything or
I wanted to be - one hundred percent pure escapism until I
discovered its secret. The mirror lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a all its own. It is a genie that grants all
the wishes you could dream, at least in my case - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My
Michael, the one person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He instantly. I
couldn't even bring to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just come face to face with him that one last time. My failure to
attend my parents' resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living hell
'home'. For one after his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a life I had known which was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I through a down
town city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled a small
music shop and in the window the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the of my new found desire. The instrument of my
passion, my obsession, the blood-red six string. It was like I'd
the all my life.

I found it was the only way I could truly express myself. It was a
way to vent all my and all my pain - completely opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my seemed to write themselves and I knew
my destiny was in my music but I was going to to get out of this
town I was in if I was ever going to succeed. I was 16 going
nowhere and the only thing my parents was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed there that was what was going to happen to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big city with the lights, excitement and
and a for me to finally live and do my music without the
persecution I had for so long. I hitchhiked all the way with a
suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other and as I at the edge
of the the magic of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new the place I would call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
in the arena for two years trying to get a break in music and
make a record and that's when I ran a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had been a for 25 years before he discovered he could
fuck over more people in the industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the president of one of the record
companies in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the of choice
was his record company that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great
he lovingly refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the business where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will whore themselves to commercialism, the place where the
music to die. And through him I learned everything I needed to know
about the music business and even things I didn't want to know. He he
could make me a star, one of the biggest things the had ever seen.
The big was calling and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and together we took on the
fucking world and it square in the ass.

Just the release of my first album I was sitting on the steps in
front of my apartment when a gypsy passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I would like my fortune read and I had had it done so I was
more than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot and began
to tell me of my past in which she went into great detail about the
of my youth, my and my parents. She saw my present with my great
to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness
but after ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a very
disturbing vision of where I was going. I told her I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and and in the cards she saw a fallen hero and
looked at me and said "Be careful you wish for - it might come true,
for the face of death the mask of the King of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of she had seen and with a blank stare she turned and
walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting that would me
the of my life.

Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The records I sold the more
excess I had of - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly where a flash individual entered the room.
He introduced himself as the Doctor. I asked him kind of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror that was
on the wall, my alter ego, was now talking to me the table and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs the new candy and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best and I
never the mirror speak again until tonight.

I was at the peak of my and the world saw me as I had always wanted
it, The Idol, the Great Crimson Idol. Now I had it seemed,
everything but the one thing that would have meant more to me
anything. The pain that itself into my obsession, the
acceptance of me by my and mother, who I had not spoken to since
I had home.

One morning my manager came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold women etc. And we'd
watch the and do everything going on the film only a lot more. And
he threatened to leave me if I clean up. It was not that he cared
about me as a he was only interested in my talent and what I could
do to further his own as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I
realised just how far things had gone. So I sat there in my palace
of pain and I was just numb from the alcohol and the but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough courage to up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind thinking of
would happen and the overcame me and I started to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the other end out and it sent a chill
through me I had never known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my heart pounding out of my chest but I did I did the best I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of hearing from me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the
that had passed would heal the deep wounds my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted them to of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would prove my worthiness
and they would the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to
be proud of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last were "We
no son".

Some never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star fell
the sky that night and with its descent left a scorched path in its
way - a great of self-destruction before burning out. And on this
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful what you for - it
may come true. ' Long live, live the King of Mercy.