Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

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

My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to imagine we came from the parents. I
sometimes if we had the same father, but I always dismissed that
idea as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever
think of such a thing. But my brother who had sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was
different and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel
over my bed and christened me a magic wand and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no what 'The one' was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a and worship them like
the Mary but with her too my relationship was different and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed everything she read, or not, and when it came
to religion was to say the least. A mind 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
look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought when I was older
would be nothing her. In the pain of youth, the misery of my neglect,
manifest itself in many ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - for my fire. These four
characteristics of my personality would the guiding force of my
life and would control everything I did or was to become. I shall
later in the story about them which I call my Four of Doom.

The mirror, the great plaything for man's vanity. The was to
become, at times, my altar of refuge and other, my ego and its
magnificent obsession a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as
a reflection of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the
one place I could go to see myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I 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 ever dream, at in my case - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't even bring to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just couldn't come face to face with him that one last time. My to
attend intensified my resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that hell called
'home'. For one after his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls,
and in general a life I had never known was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was as I staggered through a down
town city in one of my drunken rages I stumbled across a small
music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool
would become the object of my new desire. The instrument of my
passion, my obsession, the six string. It was like I'd known
the all my life.

I soon found it was the only way I could express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I myself 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 have to get out of
backwards town I was in if I was going to succeed. I was 16 going
nowhere and the thing my parents knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed there that was exactly what was to happen to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big with the lights, excitement and danger
and a chance for me to finally live and do my music the
persecution I had known for so long. I all the way with a
suitcase in one and my guitar in the other and as I stood at the edge
of the city the of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the place I would call the Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the for two years trying to get a break in music and
make a record and that's I ran across a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years before he he could
fuck over more people in the recording industry then he ever in a
of law and he was the president of one of the biggest record
companies in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing
than a sacrificial to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record company that wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly refer to as Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the business where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
eventually 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 things the world 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 on the whole
fucking world and kicked it in the ass.

Just before the release of my album I was sitting on the steps in
of my apartment when a gypsy woman 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 cards and
to tell me of my past in which she went into great detail about the
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my with my great
struggle to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found
but after ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She me a very
vision of where I was going. I told her that I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen and
looked at me and said "Be careful what you for - it might come true,
for the of death wears the mask of the King of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of what she had seen and with a 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 more records I the more
I had of everything - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my hedonisms where a flash individual entered the room.
He introduced himself as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of and
he and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror that was once
on the wall, my ego, was now talking to me from the table and the
next years were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Rockter was my new best friend and I
never the mirror speak again until tonight.

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

One my manager Alex came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody 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 didn't clean up. It was not that he
about me as a person he was only interested in my talent and what I
do to further his own career as a true mogul. But it was then I
just how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of and I was just numb from the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
by my own fame and I had just enough courage to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My went into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the
but I could a voice at the other end rang out and it sent a chill
through me that I had known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my heart pounding out of my but when I did I did the best I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of hearing from me
after all years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time
that had passed would heal the deep between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted to approve of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my
and they would welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for to
be proud of me but less than 50 were spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some wounds never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star
from the sky that night and 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 you wish for - it
may come true. ' live, long live the King of Mercy.