Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of 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 understand why because his hair was 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, 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 image of 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 beatings I received became more and
frequent to the point where I would ask my "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But oddly I worshipped the ground my father
upon.

My brother and I a strange mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to imagine we from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed
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 me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He often me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a magic wand and said "You be the
one". And I had no idea what one' was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. Most boys put mother on a pedestal and worship them like
the Virgin Mary but with her too my relationship was and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed everything she read, 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 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 after when I was
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 - fuel for my fire. These
of my personality would become the guiding force of my
life and would control I did or was to become. I shall explain
later in the story about which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great for man's vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of and other, my alter 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 I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I could be great, where I 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 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 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 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 come face to face with him that one last time. My failure to
attend intensified my parents' for me even 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 alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a life I had never known which was exciting,
and dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a down
town city street in one of my drunken rages I across a small
music shop and in the window the instrument, the fiery tool that
would the object 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 soon found it was the only way I truly express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - completely all my
Four Of Doom and I found 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 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
nowhere and the only thing my knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed there that was exactly was going 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 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 home the place I would 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 delightful business man
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
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 lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record company that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great
he would lovingly to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the where the
music comes to die. And him I learned everything I needed to know
about the business and even things I didn't want to know. He said he
could make me a star, one of the biggest things the had ever seen.
The big time was calling and I was on my way. He me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex and together we took 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 when a gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I would like my fortune read and I had never had it so I was
more than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of cards and began
to me of my past in which she went into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present my great
struggle to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new happiness
but about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and she spoke. She showed 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 hero and
at me and said "Be careful what 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 what she had and with a blank stare she turned and
walked away leaving me with the and a haunting that would follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I the more
excess I had of - 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 smiled and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror that was
on the wall, my alter ego, was now to me from the table and the
three 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
heard the mirror speak again until tonight.

I was at the peak of my career and the saw me as I had always wanted
it, The Idol, the Great Idol. Now I had everything it seemed,
everything but the one thing would have meant more to me than
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 up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And
watch the movie and do 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 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 the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had enough courage to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind into a whirlwind thinking of what
happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the 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 chest but when I did I did the I
could. She was very cold. But I the shock of suddenly hearing from me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the
had passed would heal the deep wounds between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted to approve of me, to accept me - it was
all I wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my worthiness
and they would welcome the son home. All I wanted was for them to
be proud of me but less than 50 were spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some wounds never heal and 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 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.