Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of William and
steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the lion and I was in a
lower middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I
dearly. He was five years my senior. My father's was Red which I
never understand why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So my brother 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 just 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 could do no and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon out that
red and black don't mix. The beatings I received became more and
frequent to the point where I ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my
upon.

My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as and
dark. Looking back, it's to imagine we came from the same parents. I
sometimes if we had the same 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 brother who had sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his to encourage me. For I was born
and he knew it. He often told 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 'The one' was, but as I grew older I to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship 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, true or not, and it came
to religion was to say the least. A mind boggling combination
but she was pretty, very and I would often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description rationalise life.

This was a series of characteristics many times in my life I would
look on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was older
would be nothing like her. In the of youth, the misery of my neglect,
would manifest in many ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - fuel for my fire. 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 about them which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the plaything for man's vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of and other, my alter ego and its
magnificent obsession with a relentless pursuit of attention. It as
a chilling of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the
one place I could go to see myself, to find love, in an otherwise
household where I could be great, where I could be anything or
anyone I wanted to be - one hundred percent pure 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 you could ever dream, at least in my case - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day that 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 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 parents' resentment for me even more. But from
moment on, nothing to matter, especially that living hell called
'home'. For one year his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a life I had never known 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 across a
music and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the object of my new desire. The instrument 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 only way I could truly myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the mirror for less
and less. Because of this my songs seemed to themselves 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 ever going to succeed. I was 16
nowhere and the only thing my parents was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
there that was exactly what was going to happen to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big city 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 magic of the was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the place I would the 'Arena 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 when I ran across a delightful man named
Charlie. He had been a for 25 years before he discovered he could
fuck over more people in the recording industry then he ever in a
court of law and he was the of one of the biggest record
companies in the world. The business to Charlie was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the of choice
was his record company that he'd wield a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually themselves to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And through him I 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 world had seen.
The big time was calling and I was on my way. He me to an
aspiring young named Alex Rodman and together we took on the whole
fucking world and it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my first album I was sitting on the in
front of my apartment when a gypsy woman 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 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 with my
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 me a very
disturbing vision of where I was going. I told her that I a
phenomenal and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen hero and
at me and said "Be careful 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 what she had seen and with a stare she turned and
walked away leaving me the cards and a haunting that would 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 individual 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 was once
on the wall, my ego, was now talking to me from the table and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and
became the new Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I
never heard the mirror 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 Crimson Idol. Now I had 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 morning my manager came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy 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 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 person he was only interested in my and what I could
do to further his own as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I
realised how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was just 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
happen and the fear 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 pounding out of my chest but when I did I did the best I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly hearing me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the
that had passed would heal the wounds between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted them to approve of me, to me - it was
all I ever wanted. I my success would finally prove my worthiness
and they welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to
be of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last four were "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 great path of self-destruction before out. And on this
night the great is finally here. 'Be careful what you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, live the King of Mercy.