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 of the lion and I was raised in a
lower middle class family only one brother Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five years my senior. My nickname was Red which I
could never understand why because his was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my was born my father became Big Red and
my brother Red. I should have known from the first time when I
realised their special connection, that I didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew older the constant between 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
Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon figured out that
red and black don't mix. The beatings I received 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, hard to imagine we came from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I dismissed that
idea as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to even
think of such a thing. But my brother who had always my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was
and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me a magic wand and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no idea what 'The was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and 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 mind boggling
but she was pretty, pretty and I would often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description could life.

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

It was my birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one who was my guiding light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
even bring myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just couldn't come to face with him that one last time. My failure to
attend intensified my parents' resentment for me more. But from that
moment on, nothing to matter, especially that living 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 which was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I 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 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 all my frustrations and all my pain - completely opened all my
Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs seemed to write and I knew
my was in my music but I was going to have to get out of this
backwards town I was in if I was going to succeed. I was 16 going
and the only thing my parents knew 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 with the lights, excitement and danger
and a chance for me to finally live and do my without the
I had known for so long. I hitchhiked 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 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 when I ran across a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he could
fuck over more in the recording industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the of one of the biggest record
in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing more
than a sacrificial to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly refer to as Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the place the
comes to die. And through him I learned everything I needed to know
about the music and even things I didn't want to know. He said he
make me a star, one of the biggest things the world had ever seen.
The big time was and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and we took on the whole
fucking and kicked it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my first I was sitting on the steps in
front of my when a gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I would my fortune read and I had never had it done so I was
more than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of cards and began
to tell me of my in which she went into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my and my parents. She saw my present with my great
struggle to succeed and of my dreams and new found happiness
but after about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my
and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She me a very
disturbing vision of where I was going. I told her that I a
phenomenal wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen and
looked at me and said "Be careful 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 what she had 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 where a flash individual entered the room.
He introduced as the Doctor. I asked him what 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 from the and the
next three were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol
became the new Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend 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 that manifested 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 Alex came in and broke up one of our nightly
Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And
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 he cared
about me as a he was only interested in my talent and what I could
do to further his own career as a 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 alcohol and the drugs but as
intoxicated by my own and I had just enough courage to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I to put down the phone
but I could 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 I did I did the best I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the of suddenly hearing from me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping all the time
that had passed would heal the deep wounds between my and me
but... I desperately wanted them to of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my
and would welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to
be proud of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last four "We
no son".

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