Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

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

My brother and I a strange mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it's to imagine we came from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed
as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
think of a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent's
instilled tried 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 christened me with a magic wand and "You shall be the
one". And I had no what 'The one' was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them like
the Virgin but with her too my relationship was different and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed everything she read, true or not, and it came
to religion was over-zealous to say the least. A boggling combination
but she was pretty, very pretty and I would wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of description could rationalise life.

This was a series of characteristics that times in my life I would
look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was
would be nothing like her. In the pain of youth, the of my neglect,
would manifest in many ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - for my fire. These four
characteristics of my would become the guiding force of my
life and would everything I did or was to become. I shall explain
in the story about 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 refuge and other, my 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 place I go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I be great, where I could be anything or
anyone I to be - one hundred percent pure escapism until I
discovered its precious secret. The lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a personality all its own. It is a that grants all
the wishes you could ever dream, at in my case - all except two.

It was my birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a drunk in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't even bring myself to go to his funeral. My was so great I
just come face to face with him that one last time. My failure to
attend intensified my resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living hell
'home'. For one year after his death I the streets in a fog barely
conscious of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls,
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 and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the object of my new found desire. The of my
passion, my obsession, the blood-red six string. It was I'd known
the all my life.

I soon found it was the way I could truly express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my - completely opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs seemed to themselves and I knew
my destiny was in my music but I was to have to get out of this
backwards town I was in if I was ever going to succeed. I was 16
nowhere and the only thing my parents 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 to the big city with the lights, excitement and danger
and a chance for me to finally and do my music without the
persecution I had known for so long. I all the way with a
suitcase in one hand and my in the other and as I stood at the edge
of the city the magic of the place was 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 across a business man named
Charlie. He had a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he could
fuck more people in the recording industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the president of one of the biggest
companies in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing
a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record company that he'd like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly refer to as Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business where everyone sells out. Where all the
will eventually whore to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And through him I everything I needed to know
about the music business and things I didn't want to know. He said he
could make me a star, one of the biggest things the world had seen.
The big time was calling and I was on my way. He me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and together we on the whole
fucking world and kicked it in the ass.

before the release of my first album I was sitting on the steps in
front of my apartment when a 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 to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and began
to tell me of my in which she went into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present my great
to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness
but about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a
disturbing of where I was going. I told her that I wanted a
wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen hero and
looked at me and said "Be what you wish 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 she had seen and with a blank stare she turned and
walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting that follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the more
I had of everything - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly hedonisms where a flash entered the room.
He himself as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror was once
on the wall, my alter ego, was now talking to me from the and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs became the new and alcohol
became the new Coca and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I
never heard the 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 Idol. Now I had everything it seemed,
everything but the one thing that would meant more to me than
anything. The pain that manifested itself 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 would over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold women etc. And we'd
watch the movie and do everything going on the 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 in my talent and what I could
do to his own career as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I
realised just how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my
of pain and I was just numb from the and the drugs but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went into a thinking of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the
but before I a voice at the other end rang out and it sent a chill
me that I had never known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my heart pounding out of my chest but when I did I did the I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly from me
all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time
that had passed would heal the deep wounds between my and me
but... I wanted them 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 son home. All I wanted was for them to
be proud of me but less 50 words were spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some wounds heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star fell
from the sky that night and with its left a scorched path in its
way - a great path of before burning out. And on this
night the great finale is here. 'Be careful what you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, long the King of Mercy.